Butterfly Effect
by CaptainPrice
Summary: It's said that a single flap of a butterfly's wings can cause a tidal wave halfway around the world. Change being brought upon the smallest interference sounds farfetched, but what if it wasn't? How could it affect the world of Remnant if a sole anomaly was cast into the equation? One with knowledge to what's really an endless battle between two chess masters? (SI/OC)
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, folks. This has been something I've been wanting to do for a while now. A RWBY self-insert story. I plan on this being a feature story, but I won't work on it until I finish a couple other stories I have going on. This is here to gather attention and hopefully hook your interest. It is also my attempt at writing first person, so the point of view will be from an unreliable narrator. Anyway, let me know what y'all think.**

 _Italics: Thoughts/Letters/Flashbacks_

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 _"It speaks to our larger expectation that the world should be comprehensible- that everything happens for a reason, and that we can pinpoint all of those reasons, however small they may be. But nature itself defies these expectations." -Peter Dizikes_

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Happiness is different for everyone. Whether it's a feeling, a hobby that they take pleasure in or being around people they love, it fills them with warmth and purpose. It helps mitigate negativity and makes us focus on the positives of life, which is something people could do a better job of doing now more than ever.

Right now, the grin was not leaving my face as I turned my car onto the on ramp and back on the interstate. Every year I waited for April to swing around because that meant the start of one of my favorite sports, and one that I played a lot when I was a kid. Baseball. Now, it may be America's favorite past time and it's overshadowed by football and labeled as boring, but to be fair, I think most of the people that say that are those that never played the game. It's a game of patience, teamwork, and skill. Whether it was stepping up to the plate or making contact with that white ball and sending it over the fence four hundred feet away, lovers of the game couldn't get enough of it.

April had started, and that meant the Milwaukee Brewers were back on my priority list to watch after work was done. This time, I burned a vacation day of work to attend the opening day game. Brewers verse the Cardinals… those butt fucking red birds. If you haven't figured it out by now, the Cardinals are the one team that drives me up the goddamn wall. They were the ones that stopped our World Series or postseason hopes every time. For a Brewers fan like me, it was a sick joke.

Not today, though. Today was different. The Brewers picked up where they left off at the end of last season and took the first game against the Cardinals. They swept San Diego earlier on the road, and now were perfect so far for the season start. Although there was a lot of baseball to be played, I was feeling good about the year.

My eyes turned back to the road and a groan left me. Traffic was backed up from people getting out of work and leaving Miller Park. A quick glance to my fuel alerted me that I would need to refill it if I wanted to make it back home. There was another exit half a mile ahead that had a gas station that I could do just that. Plus, it gave me time to wait for traffic to clear up a little.

Traffic moved at snail's pace the entire way to the exit, and it was like escaping a packed elevator the second I reached it. Freedom!

I came to a stop and looked down the road. The green roof of the gas station met my eyes and I made my way towards it.

Definitely not the nicest looking neighborhood. Graffiti was sprayed on some of buildings. Windows were boarded up and broken. And the street was practically deserted. Like something you'd see in a post-apocalyptic world or maybe Detroit. God, it would suck to live in Detroit.

The car bumped as it went up the slope and I pulled it to the nearest pump by the station. Doing another look around the area, my eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror. There were a group of three individuals that were talking, but one in particular was looking at my car. Something that I didn't like. This area wasn't the best and had lots of violence and crime, and the last thing I wanted was to be robbed.

To take measures to protect myself, I had received a concealed carry permit and took a class for it. Under my seat was a lockbox that held my pistol and holster. My car was still locked and gave me time to take the necessary steps. The holster was soon attached to my right hip and my gun loaded inside of it, just hiding under my shirt. Wallet and phone was in my pocket, and the key fob was in there as well.

I turned off my car, undid the fuel cap and locked the doors. It did not take me long to set up the pump to fuel my car. I kept a close eye on the group on the other side of the lot. All three of them were eyeing me now. If these guys thought they were getting my Charger, they had another thing coming.

Since I had time to kill, I decided to head inside the store to grab a Rockstar. I entered it a second later and nodded at the clerk behind the bar. On the other side of the store I found the coolers and quickly hurried over to them. The sooner I could get out of there, the better.

The coolers had the same layout like other gas stations I went to. Beer, water, soda, energy drinks, maybe some dairy products for a quick morning breakfast. Finding the Rockstar flavor I wanted, I pulled it out of the cooler.

Maybe I need to take a step back and chill? Sure those guys were looking at my car and I was in a bad part of town, but that did not immediately label them as criminals. That was me assuming a stereotype and the racial card, too. Chargers are nice cars, and I took pride in mine when I bought it last year. Took care of her every weekend, and it's possible those guys were admiring the amount of work and dedication towards it.

Yeah, that's it. Nothing crazy would happen. Besides, what are the odds of that happening? Pretty slim.

I shook my head and decided to shift my focus elsewhere. Maybe reviewing the highlights of the game on Youtube when it was put on later tonight? Actually, maybe I should work on some of my fanfiction stories. God knows I got a lot of them that I want to finish up so I can move on to others. I mean, I got like, what, four RWBY stories? And that's not counting the crack fiction I had planned or the self-insert story that I would probably do next, courtesy of inspiration of Le MAO.

Yeah, something more positive like that. My imagination was limitless, and I sure as hell came up with damn good story ideas. Whether or not they registered with readers and they commented on it was another story. Either way, I had my plan for the evening in place. Get home, work on my RWBY fanfiction. Volume five had wrapped up not too long ago, and like the other volumes before it, it was good.

A beep met my ears as the door to the store opened and my eyes trailed up to the circular mirror above the coolers. It had a clear view of the shop all the way back to the counter. The person that entered was the guy I spotted eyeing my car before I came inside. It may have been me being paranoid, but screw it. I call it situational awareness. Military training does that to you. Makes you focus on your surroundings, no matter how small they may be.

What caught my attention was the way the guy was fidgeting around counter. His head was turning in all directions, like he was looking for someone. This made the proverbial alarm sound in my head. I'd seen enough movies and surveillance videos to know when something was about to go down. By the look of it, he hadn't seen me, but he sure saw the clerk.

I adjusted the bill of my hat and continued to keep an eye on the mirror. As I did, I managed to lay low by squatting in front of a chip rack. Another beep sounded again and I checked the mirror. The other two that were outside had come in and gathered by the first.

No. No way. This wasn't going to happen was it?

The middle man stepped up to the counter and his hand came out a second later with a note. When the clerk took it, the guy on his left pulled out a gun and pointed it at the kid. The kid's hands immediately flew into the air and his face was pale as can be.

A chill went down my spine and I could feel my legs shaking as I remained crouched behind the racks.

"Darius, look for that other guy. He's here somewhere," said one of them.

 _"Fuck!"_ My hand flew to my hip and rested on the grip of my gun.

This was Déjà vu.

Now, let me explain something. Everyone has those dreams where they see something and then experience it some point down the road. For me, it happened frequently to the point it was scary. The biggest thing was that I never remembered the context of the dream until it was actually taking place. Right now, I was having a similar one that this very situation happened, albeit differently with the events. For instance, the guy coming to attack me wasn't a belligerent, smoke scented drunk with a gun that chased me around the counter. I wasn't in the gas station during my lunch break downtown like I usually went to for work, and there wasn't any construction outside being done by monkeys.

Laugh at that if you will, but that's the honest truth. The dream was weird, but it scared the shit out of me and woke me up in a cold sweat when it happened that night long ago. Now it was really happening.

I now had to make an important choice. I could either pull my gun and protect myself and the clerk and be in perfect grounds to do so, or I could reveal myself and hand over whatever they asked for and alert the authorities once they left.

Time was running out, but I was quick with my decision.

My gun was ready and I secured it in a stronger grip. Darius' footsteps grew louder and I could hear them at the end of the aisle. He would be in my sights in just a second.

The tall, imposing figure appeared around the corner a second later and he spotted me. He started to walk towards me and my concealed carry lessons kicked in.

The draw had to be fast and your aim true. Muscle memory came into play, and let me tell you, I practiced draws a lot during the class, but I never pulled out my gun as fast as I did there. The second it was out, the barrel as lined up for a shot at the man's chest. No need to aim down the sights from this distance.

My finger pulled the trigger twice and two loud, quick shots left my gun as it kicked up. Even though my ears were ringing from the loud shot, I could hear the distinct chime of the brass as it hit the floor.

Darius had no time to react and he staggered back as if struck by a large unseen force. He fell to the floor sprawled and completely still. If he was dead, I did not take the time to check. I had to secure the area, and I'm sure those guys wouldn't be too happy since I iced their boy.

My heart was pounding wildly in my chest and my legs still shook, but my gun was steady. I crept around the corner and darted to the next aisle. Hurried footsteps met my ears and I saw a grey blur dart for the corner Darius was at. Taking another look at the mirror confirmed my belief. The spotter went to check on Darius while the first was still at the counter with the clerk looking around for me.

If I were to move now he would see me, but I could get the jump on his friend.

"That motherfucker's over there!" I saw the white shirted one point towards the aisle I was at.

Another look at the mirror and this time the one in grey ran up the aisle I just came from. I was ready.

The thug had his gun out and it was the first thing that came into view when he flew around the corner. Two more shots echoed around the shop. One left from my gun and the other from the thug's. My hair stood on end when I felt the bullet hiss by me and smash into the tiled wall.

Like before, my shot was on point, although this one was messier. I didn't take time to aim down the sights and just fired again. It was a lucky shot. The thug was slumped against the cooler and blood stained the cracked glass behind him. My shot got him dead center in the forehead. He was dead for sure.

Only one more. I might just make it out of this in one piece. My adrenaline was still at its peak and everything felt as though it was moving slow for me. The only other time I remember it being this jacked was when I almost got in a head on crash due to black ice. All the fist fights I got into had nothing on this.

Shallow breaths escaped my nose as I stood up and kept my gun pointed down the aisle at the last thug. The fight was done.

"If you even move your hands, I will shoot you! You understand me?" I shouted at him.

My fear was blanketed by a veil of anger and authority when I shouted at the punk.

The thug looked taken aback and did not say anything. His hands were raised and he slowly crept to the door to make a break for it. Whatever got him out of here and the cops here faster was fine for me. Hopefully the clerk hit the silent alarm after I gunned down the first guy.

The adrenaline was wearing down on me and I could see my gun finally shaking. I had to follow through with my words. No warning shots if the guy tried to do anything else.

The door beeped a second later and the thug sprinted out of sight. A loud breath escaped me that I didn't even know I was holding. I lowered my arms and walked over to the clerk.

"Did you hit the alarm?" I asked him.

"Y-yeah," the teen said with a nod.

"Okay. Listen buddy, I need you to be a witness when the cops ask questions. Can you do that?"

The teen nodded again, not trusting his words.

"Jesus Christ, man. That was intense," the teen said with a shake of his head.

No kidding. I've never been deployed or in a gunfight, but I sure as hell was not looking to be in one any time soon after that. It was the most terrifying thing that I had gone through, and it could have just as easily…

"Shit!"

The teen's voice broke me from my thoughts and I quickly turned around to the door. That thug was back and had a gun pointed right for me. My gun was on him and I fired two more rounds through the glass, but he got a shot off, too.

My shots had hit him in shoulder and dropped him to the blacktop of the parking lot.

Something was wrong here…

It started as a small ache, but it was soon replaced with a sharp, intense pain. My hand went to press down on my chest where the pain was coming from. What I touched was wet, and it was all over my shirt. Another chill went down my spine when I looked down and saw my hand was crimson with blood. My blood.

I could only stare at my bloody hand, not even registering the shock my body was going into. That cold shiver that hit me was starting to take over my whole body. Everything felt so cold.

Somewhere in the midst of this I lost my footing and a blur of colors met my eyes as I fell to floor. The faint feeling of blood trickling out of the wound in my chest was frightening. From the feeling alone, it wasn't a simple wound. This got me in a vital and my heart was pumping blood out fast. Way too fast.

My breath was coming out faster now and growing raspy.

Was this really how it was going to go for me? It was likely. Out of all the ways I pictured myself dying, it wasn't getting killed by a fuckin' punk. I always thought I would kick the bucket from something like a heart attack, an illness, or even in my sleep. Not bleeding out in a shady part of Milwaukee.

Another presence was beside me. Probably the clerk. I couldn't tell because my vision had gone from blurry to dark as I began to slip into unconsciousness.

A pair of hands pressed down on my chest in an attempt to slow the bleeding, but this was a lost cause. I wasn't going to come out of this.

The only thing that entered my mind as everything else started to fade around me was my family. My mom. My dad. My little sister. Sometime tonight they were going to get a call from a sheriff's deputy. I could feel my eyes start to sting with unshed tears.

Another presence came to my left. Were the cops here now? I never heard the sirens.

In a desperate attempt to try and see who was beside me, I forced my eyes open. The blurriness welcomed me to two figures. One was the clerk, and the other looked like a man in a suit.

I'm not sure who the man was, but the clerk didn't seem to notice him.

My eyelids were heavy and my breath was almost nonexistent. Weak and tired. There was no other way to describe it. I was weak and tired and just wanted to sleep. Hopefully this was just a crazy dream and I was still in bed. Wishful thinking, but that's what I wanted it to be.

Loud wailing sirens finally met my ears and I could even see faint flashes of red and blue, but they soon faded away. Their arrival should have been a ray of hope, but it was more like a slap to the face. It shattered the illusion that this was a dream, and I was truly here about to die on the floor.

Then came the darkness.

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 **That's the intro, folks. Like I said. I don't plan on working on this until I finish a couple other stories. Hope you all liked the start and are willing to stick around to read it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Decided to pump out another chapter for the story here due to the response for the first one. Thanks for the support and the reviews so far, everybody. I appreciate it.**

 _Italics: Thoughts/Letters/Flashbacks_

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The white light stung my eyes as it beamed down on me. Was this the infamous light at the end of the tunnel that people saw just before they died? No. Couldn't be. Everything that surrounded me was light. If that were the case, I would have been in a long dark tunnel with that light growing closer if it was really the former.

Taking the chance, I opened my eyes and immediately squinted to ease the stinging sensation that followed it. It was as if I stared straight at the sun. Everything was so bright. It took shielding my eyes to be able to sit upright to try and comprehend my surroundings. Wherever I was.

After a deep breath, I opened my dark brown eyes.

Wait… I got shot in the chest. How did I breathe without feeling excruciating pain?

Looking down I could see the fresh hole in my shirt where that thug managed to shoot me. It was another hard realization that this was not a dream, no matter how much I wanted it to be one and how much it seemed like one now. My bloodstained shirt became the least of my problems and my curiosity only grew.

Tearing my eyes away from the shirt, I did a quick look around. I was sitting in what appeared to be an office. Not a doctor's office or anything like that, but an office where businessmen go and sit on their ass to mouth breathe for eight hours a day.

The room itself was about the size of my bedroom back at my apartment. Small, but big enough for someone to utilize until they moved up the chain. In the center of the room sat a large oak desk with a leather chain on each side. On top of the desk was a small bowl of peanuts and a keyboard to a computer with no visible monitor. Behind the desk was a large paned window that had golden light spilling through it.

The seat I was sitting on gave a groan as I stood up. A quick glance back at the seat revealed a brown leather couch.

"What the hell?"

Despite the relaxed office setting, this was creeping me out. This seemed more like the office for a psychiatrist or maybe a waiting room for my next stop.

The window looked welcoming with the light that shone through it and I went to take a look outside. Maybe I could pinpoint my location?

This belief was soon dashed. Upon reaching the window for my answer, I only saw a continuous white void. The golden light that had spilled through rained high from above. The golden light of Heaven.

The white void twisted and began to shift before me, growing darker. The darkness that followed was not that of an endless abyss, but it was lightly illuminated by stars. Far above, the golden lights still glowed in the distance. The darkness had a new addition down below. A mixture of red and orange that seemed to spread in every direction. Endless rivers of fire.

"Wait a minute…" I took a step back.

My assumption of the room seemed to be accurate. This was a waiting room where I would be passed my final judgment to ascend to Heaven or begin my descent into Hell. The void I was in served as the dimension between both biblical realms.

"Enjoying the view?" A new voice broke the silence.

My heart leapt into my chest and I wheeled around in a start. The voice belonged to a man. It was strong and calm. Like the man had done this dozens of times before and had the upcoming conversation memorized down to a T.

The man before me wore a black suit and tie. His hair was dark brown and long that was slicked back to keep it neat. The eyes that looked back at me were electric blue and appeared to be glowing slightly in the light.

This guy was familiar and it took me a minute to realize who it was. I only met him once, and that was when he was standing over me as I bled out in the gas station.

"Hey, you still with me?" The man snapped his fingers.

I quickly shook my head after he roused me with his question. The only thing I could do was nod back. He offered me the chair before him and he made his way around the desk to take his seat. Not wanting to be close to the guy who yanked my ass off of Earth, I scurried around the desk and got in the chair. Similar to how I moved when being ordered during my training. The guy didn't yell at me, but I sure as hell followed his request like he did.

The chair squeaked when I plopped down in it and leaned back. When I did, my heart began to pump again. No blood squirted out from the wound like it did back in the gas station, and it didn't hurt. It pounded normally and soon raced like it did when I ran or got anxious about something. Like waiting for an answer you needed to hear, but were afraid to hear at the same time. That kind of feeling. It only grew stronger as my eyes stayed fixed on the man who sat in the seat across from me casually.

This guy was the one who brought me here and you can bet that I was nervous with what awaited me.

"Not much of a talker, huh?" His hand scooped up a small handful of peanuts.

He popped a couple in his mouth and the small crunches met my ears as he munched on the snack.

My throat was dry and it took me swallowing the saliva that had built in my mouth to soothe it before speaking back to him.

"Where am I? Who are you?"

Easily the two most important questions that I needed to be answered, but was afraid to hear.

The man finished swallowing the peanuts that were in his mouth and brushed his fingers clean on his suit. Not something someone who appeared to take pride in their appearance would do. Especially if the suit looked expensive like that.

"I would have thought it was obvious?" The man offered back.

A shake of my head made the man sigh and suck his teeth.

"Well, shit. This is awkward," he continued.

"What's awkward? What's so hard to answer here?" I answered back.

"I guess there's no easy way to break it to you, so I'll just say it. You're dead. Gunned down at twenty-five in a gas station."

The corner of my mouth twitched and formed a grimace. That wasn't what I wanted to hear. I couldn't be dead yet! I still had a long life to live! How the hell is it I die by being a good person and doing the right thing?

My hands were gripping the sides of the chair so tight that my knuckles were white with stress. I shook my head in disbelief.

"You can deny it all you want, but you know it as well as I do," said the man with a shake of his head. "Bullet tore right through your aorta artery."

"No." I glared up at him.

"Yes. You're dead."

"Who are you to tell me that, huh!?"

The man's eyes seemed to flash at my retort. He leaned forward on the desk, his lips pursed in a thin line. His arm reached across the desk and the tip of his finger rested just above the bullet wound in my chest. In a small jab, his finger poked the wound and pain flared up for the first time since I got there, forcing a muffled scream from my throat.

"The guy who is trying to help you," he said with a firm tone.

He withdrew his hand and I gently massaged my chest to ease the sharp pain. It had vanished as soon as it had come. The man's actions had me reluctant to say anything more. If he had the ability to make me feel the excruciating pain and null it, he was not one to test. Plus, I didn't even know who… or what this guy was. He was something supernatural for sure, though.

"Who are you?" I asked again.

The man leaned back in his chair and his face softened from its stern state.

"My name is Seraph. And depending on your faith, I am an angel."

This was too much. Not only am I dead, but now I'm hearing that the guy who took my soul or spirit, whatever you want to call it, and brought it here for judgment is an angel. Too much madness for one day. This was the wildest day I had that started out great, but went to hell in a handbasket.

Now, I will be honest. I believe in God and am very open minded, but I was definitely not the most model Catholic. Science did not take a backseat to something like that. If this guy was truly an angel, I needed some more proof. Even though Seraph was making a good case for his answer with what he had done and said so far.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but don't angels have wings?" I asked

Seraph glowered and his cheek poked out in a pout of embarrassment.

"Technically yes, but I'm… a bit of a different case," he answered.

"How?" I rose a brow.

"Heaven's angel department works in a weird way. Think of it like an entry level job where you work your way up."

"So you're basically an intern?"

Seraph's silence said it all as he shifted in his seat. He reached for another handful of peanuts to snack on.

"You're shitting me, right?" I blinked. "Not even a full-fledged angel?"

"Like I said, it's weird." Seraph said in between chews.

He swallowed the rest of the peanuts and lightly pushed the bowl over to me.

"Look, we're pressed for time, so let's get to the reason why you're here," said Seraph.

"I got killed. That's why I'm here," I said after taking a handful of peanuts.

"True, and I'll be the first to tell you that your death was premature. You had at least sixty years left, so this was a bit of a surprise. And this is the reason why you're here."

Eighty-five? Man, on any other day this would have left me impressed, but now it was just a kick to the gut. How much was I going to miss now that I died? What did I get cheated out of to experience? Would I have had any kids or enjoyed a retirement? No way to know now.

The whole meaning of live life to its fullest really is something to go by. You never know what tomorrow can bring, and it's best to do everything you can while you're alive. It led to me realizing that I failed to do that. I had dreams and goals to reach, but they had fallen on the backburner as I fell into a routine. That routine became my life. Wake up, go to work, hit the gym, go to bed, and then do drill once a month. Rinse and repeat. The sad part is that it took me dying to come to that conclusion.

A small light met my eyes and a screen popped up between me and Seraph. On the screen there were two columns with dozens of bullet points that ran down the pages. One page after the next, each bullet listed something I had done that appeared to be categorized into a deed or a sin. Everything that I had done in my life was now in front of me and being reviewed by Seraph.

I could barely read any of the points since Seraph blazed through them with inhuman speed. The few that caught my eye surprised me. Not just because of what I did, but also because I didn't even remember some of them until now.

Seraph let out a whistle as he reached the end and his eyes turned to me. His gaze was one of disappointment.

"That doesn't sound promising." I frowned as fear began to swell inside me.

"We keep track of everyone's deeds and sins, but you're definitely not the worst I've seen. In fact, this is pretty average," said Seraph.

"Really?"

"Yes. The biggest problem I'm seeing here is how we judge you since your deeds and sins are dead even."

Can't be judged? Well, what happens now? Do I just stay here for eternity or does something else decide my fate?

"Right now, this is more or less Purgatory. You noticed Heaven and Hell outside the window, right?" Seraph explained.

I only nodded back. Purgatory. Vaguely remembered what the concept of it was, but I always thought that it was the state between Heaven and Hell where someone dwelled until their soul was purified through prayer, or something like that. Like I said, not the most model Catholic.

Not exactly the worst place since I could be burning for all eternity in Hell.

"People who are here have to undergo purification before passing on. And now, that's what is going to have to happen for you," said Seraph.

"How do I get out of here?" I asked.

Seraph's eyes flicked back up to me and they glowed a light blue in doing so. He was silent for a minute before a small smile came to his face.

"Since your death was premature, it prevented you from being able to live your life enough to grow as a person and have your deeds surpass your sins. You are a rare case, but there have been others like you in this situation before," he continued.

"What does this mean for me?" I asked.

"People in this position are given a unique opportunity to go through their final purification. In this case, I would be in charge of your purification to ensure you stay on track to be admitted into Heaven. Which is good, because it's guys like you that qualify as points for me to become a true angel."

So there was still hope to ascend into Heaven for me, and it involved me being purified. I was Seraph's meal ticket to getting his wings, and he was mine to get out of Purgatory.

"I need to help five people through purification to get my halo and wings, and you would be my fifth. This is a perfect setup in my eyes," said Seraph.

"What all falls into my purification?" I asked.

Seraph's fingers were a blur as he typed away at the keyboard in front of him and brought up another screen. On the screen was a document that looked like a contract for review since there was a blank line at the bottom that required a signature.

In a flash of white light, the document materialized before me after he clicked the send button. He reached into his suit and pulled out a black pen and set it on top of the contract.

"From what was on your file, it's your personality that needs the most work to go with more deeds. You need more positive qualities for enlightenment, and while you have some, you have more negative traits," Seraph began.

"Like what?" I retorted.

"You have a low opinion of yourself. You're a loner that has trust issues, and you are indecisive. The list just goes from there."

Well, he got me there. Then again, he did have my file to look at for that knowledge.

"You sign this contract here, our deal goes into effect. You get a fresh start at life to correct yourself and become purified. Once you've fulfilled the contract, you go to Heaven, I get my wings and we end up having a beer when it's all said and done," he continued.

Fresh start at life? How do I get a fresh start at life? Is he going to send me back to let me live it to the fullest? Catholics didn't believe in reincarnation, so how was this going to work?

"How is that possible? How do I get a fresh start at life?" I folded my arms.

Seraph nodded and popped some more peanuts into his mouth.

"You'll be sent to a world similar to Earth where you will ultimately have to pick up where you left off. Not reincarnation, but a transmigration. Does that make sense?"

"Not at all. Don't remember reading anything in scriptures about Purgatory leaving its dwellers with that option," I answered back.

"True, but penance has to be given to leave Purgatory. The boss felt it would be better to allow those like you who are stuck here to correct their shortcomings. They are given the choice to wait for purification via prayer from others, or can take it into their own hands."

Seraph's eyes locked with mine and leveled me with a more questioning gaze. I was quick to determine what he was getting at. This was him forcing me to confront one of my faults head on. Making a decision.

It's not that I was incapable of making decisions. I just didn't like being hasty with them when I didn't have enough information. This was him putting me on the spot and throwing caution to the wind with his words. I hated it.

My knuckles cracked as I formed tight fists.

"I don't know." I shook my head.

"I'm going to give you one minute to think. When the time's up, you either sign this contract or you stay here until enough prayers have purified you. The choice is yours."

Damn it.

My eyes drifted back to the contract and the longer I stared at it, the more tempting it got to sign. If I could have the chance to speed up my chances to getting to Heaven, I'd take it without hesitation. It beats sitting around and waiting for god knows how long. The only problem was the contract itself. It felt like the right choice, but I had that gnawing feeling in my gut telling me otherwise.

Sure it was promising now, but what came with doing this?

"Time's up." Seraph folded his hands. "Will you take matters into your own hands, or sit on your ass for all eternity?"

My hand reached for the pen and I picked it up. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I saw a brief look of relief in Seraph's eyes. He wanted me to make that decision, but it probably had to do with getting his promotion to angel.

"If I'm signing this, I want to read it," I told him with a small glare.

"By all means." He waved it aside.

My eyes scoured that contract slowly. Whenever you signed one of these things you had to read the fine print. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know about loopholes in these things, and I sure as hell wanted to know what came with my signature. Everything that we talked about. The full details of our deal. Everything.

Then it got fishy. The lower I got, the harder it became to read. It wasn't that the print was smudged or too small. I just couldn't read it. The writing had changed from English to something I'd never seen before.

"Why can't I read the whole thing?" I looked up at him.

"Admin work. For their eyes only," was his short reply.

"I'll put this pen down."

A sharp breath came from the angel in training and he stared back at me flatly.

"There's nothing set to screw you over in that contract," he answered calmly.

"Sure. And Hell is a tropical paradise," I said back.

A small grimace graced Seraph and he leaned forward on the desk.

"It's my job to make sure you reach purification. I wouldn't have you sign that contract if it didn't help you," he spoke again. "What more assurance do you need?"

The pen shook in my hand and I could feel my teeth clench together. After everything that happened to me, that was the last thing I needed to hear.

"I've had a fucked up day. I was killed trying to do the right thing, and now I'm being processed through a trial to get into Heaven because my life was cut short. You're telling me I need to make up for it by going into a new world alone to start again. If you really are an angel like you say, I want some goddamn proof that you'll hold your end of the bargain and not screw me over!"

It felt good to let it out. This had been building since I woke up on that couch and we started talking. It may have been a bad idea to use God's name in vain in the presence of an angel, but at this point with the language we've used so far, I think it was fair game.

Seraph was silent and he blinked before pulling up the left sleeve of his suit. On his arm was a mark similar to a tattoo. It was in the shape of a blade.

"This mark is branded on all angels and angels in training. Should one of us disobey an oath we've taken up, we get vaporized like that," he said with a snap of his fingers.

His tone did not falter and there was no shift in his eyes to suggest he was lying. He let me look at the mark one last time before he rolled his sleeve down.

God was merciful, but his judgment was swift and just. Much like the stories I heard from the bible, they were filled with tests of faith and devotion. If they were failed or his warnings were not heeded, it did not end well.

Seraph was telling me the truth.

With that in mind, I picked up the pen and signed my name on the contract.

Once I finished, the contract glowed and disappeared in a flash of white light. The light then split into two wisps and away from each other. The first hit Seraph in the chest and the other entered my chest.

The feeling of warmth that came with it was not only comforting, but refreshing. Out of curiosity, I looked down my shirt to find that the wound I had was now sealed up, leaving a noticeable scar.

"We're just about done here. All we have to do now is give you your new name and you're good to go," said Seraph.

"New name? Why do I need a new name?" I rose a brow.

"The rules of this world I'm putting you on are unique, and names are one of them. Once you got a name that registers, I'll send you out."

Seraph pushed the keyboard over to me and the screen between us shifted to an empty block with a keystroke waiting to enter the first letter. If that wasn't enough, a melody emitted from the screen. One that I knew very well and could only offer the man a look of mild surprise.

"I figured I could at least try to cheer you up a little bit." Seraph shrugged.

The theme that played was one that I recognized from playing video games. It was from the first game I remember ever playing that ended up using the theme for the first time and it became a staple point in the series to follow. The Fairy Fountain theme from A Link to the Past. It was fitting, I'd give him that one.

My fingers went to typing the first name I could think of.

 _Spike Spiegel._

Might as well try to use the name of one of my favorite anime characters. The screen flashed red and the name was immediately erased.

"Try again. That one won't work." Seraph grabbed another handful of peanuts.

Okay… what about this one?

 _Mitch Connor._

Again the screen flashed red and forced me to write another name.

Man, I had to have sat there for at least three minutes coming up with a new name for myself. Every name I tried did not work and some of them only made Seraph shake his head in disbelief. I was starting to get so desperate that I resorted to names I had for my OCs from my fanfiction stories. You don't want to do that.

I mean, what kind of douchebag names himself after one of his own characters or vice versa?

This was the last name I could think of. If it didn't work, I would just ask Seraph to give me one.

 _Dustin Stone._

The buffering bar came into view and then at long last, the screen flashed green.

"There we go." Seraph clapped his hands.

"What kind of world is that stingy with a name rule?" I got to my feet.

"One that you know very well."

That caught my interest and sent it a mile high. I knew this world he was sending me to?

"Which one is it?" I asked.

Seraph smirked and stood up with a long stretch. He then walked around his desk and stood in front of me with his hands on his hips.

"Where would be the fun in that?" He challenged.

His hand reached out and I shook it.

"You got another shot, Mister Stone. I look forward to seeing what you can do," said Seraph.

"Yeah…" I pulled my hand free.

"Make it count."

Before I could react, Seraph raised his hand and made a finger gun. It made me take a step back in anticipation and my hand was already going for my gun that was still at my hip. I had no time to move as he kicked his hand up to simulate a shot.

What hit me felt like a hard flick to the head and everything around me vanished in a flash of light.

* * *

Air swept into my lungs as I gasped for it and a couple of coughs escaped me. It was reminiscent from some nightmares that would shock me awake when I was younger.

The air was warm. Much warmer than it was in Milwaukee. The smell of salt was in the air and it tickled my nostrils as it wafted inside. Gulls cawed above me and their shadows swam in and out of sight, circling like vultures. But the biggest thing I noticed was the sound of crashing waves. They weren't small like you'd hear on a river or lake. These were waves from an ocean.

My hands found strength and managed to push me up enough to take in my surroundings. They were soon covered in warm sand as they burrowed into it.

I sat up and adjusted my hat and waited for my vision to come back into focus. When it did, I was greeted to the site of a vast blue ocean that was so clear that it looked like a second sky. The waves raced up the beach and stopped a good twenty yards away from me, leaving traces of bubbling foam before it vanished into the soaked sand.

It reminded me of the beaches of Tobago and Cabo. Beautiful.

As much as I wanted to sit there and marvel in the beauty, I remembered my current situation. I was now in an entirely new world, and from the looks of it, this remote beach was not near civilization.

"Where am I?"

* * *

 **So that's chapter two. Hopefully it doesn't sound or seem to corny or cliché, but this is what I had planned. I at least tried to make the goals between myself and Seraph clear and not just a Deus Ex Machina to bring me to Remnant.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the support of the story so far, everybody. It means a lot for the reviews, follows and favorites. While I know it may not follow the more preferred route of humor/parody like some well known RWBY SI stories, I would like to thank you for giving it a shot and sticking with it so far. As thanks, I decided to pump out one last chapter for it before the year was done. So let's get to it.**

 _Italics: Thoughts/Letters/Flashbacks_

* * *

I sat there in stunned silence as the waves continued to crash loudly against the beach. There was not a single cloud in the sky and I could see endless ocean as it stretched out for miles. Flocks of gulls continued to circle overhead and caw out. With a quick look up and down the beach I could only see palm trees and dried up bushes. It could almost pass for a postcard.

That aside, I was having difficulty trying to think of anything. My mind had come back blank, and I'm sure that had to do with the fact I was still trying to come to terms with everything that had happened. Can you blame me? Pretty sure no one would be taking this remotely better. It's easy to imagine what you'd do in certain situations, but that was because they were hypothetical and designed to challenge your thought process. It's not like it literally put you in that situation and just said "figure it out, guy."

If anyone was in my shoes and thrust here in an unknown land, stranded on a beach in the middle of nowhere, they would not be calm and trying to figure out what comes next like something out of a video game. They would be freaking out. If they said they wouldn't do that, they're a liar. The mind can only take so much before it is overwhelmed and that's exactly where mine was at that moment.

Although I knew this wasn't a dream, I decided to check again just one last time. False hope was still there, but it needed to be done to help bring some form of closure.

My hand lifted up my shirt and I lightly fingered the bullet hole on the chest and lifted it above the wound I had. Just like I remembered from Seraph's office, after signing the contract with him, the wound had sealed shut and healed enough to leave a gnarly scar. Something that could be a cool story later if anyone asked about it, but I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

Right now I had to regroup and try to figure out where I was.

Let's look at the facts. I'm in a tropical area, in fact it was pretty damn hot. And I was on a beach in the middle of nowhere with no signs of civilian life nearby. This could be a big problem. In this weather and lack of shelter, I could just as easily die from lack of resources. That was a no go, especially after I already died earlier today.

The only option I had was to get off the beach and search for a small town or find a road to maybe hitchhike if it came down to it. That was my first mission. Find some form of civilization and figure out where I was.

My hands fumbled for my pistol that was still attached to my hip in the holster. There was no sand clogging the barrel or caught in the slide after giving it a quick inspection. Before I put it on back at the gas station, I had two magazines that held fifteen bullets. One was in the gun and the other was sitting in the holster. I used four bullets back in that gunfight which meant I had twenty-six left. Sounded like a lot, but it really wasn't.

Next I went for my wallet to see what else may have transferred over with me during the transmigration. I had eighty dollars in it when I was at Miller Park since the food and drinks were expensive and I didn't want to use my credit card. That also included both my driver's license and military ID.

The first thing that caught my eye was that the green cash I had become familiar with was now replaced with some plastic, card-like currency.

 _"What the hell?"_ I pulled it out to take a closer look.

This was the weirdest form of money I'd seen. The only thing that I knew was that it was the eighty dollars I had earlier, but converted to fit rules of this world. Until I figured out how currency worked here, I could actually be dirt poor for all I know. Actually, check that. I was poor as shit at the moment. That alone sucks since I had a lot saved up back home.

The final thing I noticed was that both of my identification cards had remained the same for the most part, except my name had changed to my new one. It didn't make much sense in my eyes that they didn't change like the money did, but maybe there was a stretch to how much changed? Guess that's something to ask Seraph next time I saw him.

I tucked my wallet away and got to my feet with a long stretch. My shoulders, back and neck cracked as I loosened up for my hike. Time to get off this beach.

I made my way up the beachhead and climbed up the slope of the hill. The sand was loose and I could feel it pour into my shoes as I climbed. The grainy texture clung to my socks and ground against my feet as I reached the top of the hill. When I finished my ascension I looked out ahead of me and stood rooted to the spot in silence.

Far ahead I could see nothing but large rock formations shimmering in the blistering waves of the heat. Some cactuses stood tall like green spires on top of the dry, cracked desert ground.

The desert. Of all the godforsaken places Seraph could have dropped me, he drops me in the goddamn desert. What an asshole. Yeah, I was in trouble if I didn't find some fresh water soon.

Doing another sweep of the area I could see nothing going up and down the coastline. No signs. No roads. Nothing. I would need to make a decision fast and it was a risky one. Suffer dehydration trying to find civilization or die from dehydration as a result of drinking salt water.

Well, I guess now's a good a time as any to take a risk.

I decided to continue into the desert. My luck was hit and miss and given the way it was going today, it did not seem promising that I would find a town, or a rest stop or even an oasis. At least I had my hat to keep me protected from the sun.

This wasn't the first time I had been in the desert before. I traveled through West Texas, New Mexico and Arizona with my old car. Long car ride and the scenery had its moments, but it was not the ideal place to run into a hiccup. They got hot as hell during the day, especially during the summer and believe it or not, it could get pretty damn cold during the nights.

In fact, this reminded me a lot of Arizona. Flat desert that went on for miles that was filled with dried up wadis, creeks and riverbeds that only came to life during the heavy rains. The air was also dry and the sun unforgiving without clouds to block it out. The ground was hard and kicked up clouds of dirt and dust whenever I took a step on the dry surface.

I didn't have a watch on me either save for my cell phone… wait, that would work!

My hand drifted down to my pocket where my phone would have been, but it ended up going deeper than it should. The phone was like a brick and I could feel it in my pocket whenever it was sitting in it. This this time I actually had to dig down to find it, and it was a lot smaller than before. When my fingers pinched the object in place of my phone I pulled it out and was stunned to see what looked like a device just barely bigger than my thumb.

This is way off. What the heck was this thing? Where did my phone go?

I spun the device between my finger tips and held it up to my eyes to closely inspect it. Nothing too out of the ordinary. It was about the size of a USB drive and upon closer inspection I could make out a distinct line that ran down the center of it. Going on a hunch I pinched each side of the device and pulled it open. A light blue screen popped up between both pieces of the plastic.

"This isn't what I think it is, is it?" I muttered in disbelief.

You see, I'd seen this device before, but it was only something that existed in a web series that I watched religiously, especially when new episodes became available for members on the site. It was a scroll. The cell phones of the RWBY universe.

I could feel my jaw hanging open as I looked at the scroll dumbly, completely shocked with the realization I came to. It was something I was kicking myself for because it should have been obvious after what happened back in Seraph's office. When I was coming up with my new name the registration denied it because it didn't fall in line with a color. A nitpicky rule, but one of the more unique ones of the show. And it was also one that a lot of OC stories in the fanfiction department neglected and shat on. Because hey, fanfiction, right?

Out of curiosity I tapped the screen and it lit up for a moment before buzzing to the main menu. The layout of the scroll was similar to my phone with apps and widgets in place on the screen to go with the settings, the time, my signal, all of that good stuff. One of the apps in particular looked like a miniature globe and going on a hunch, I tapped it.

My belief was confirmed when a web browser came up and big bold letters popped into the center of the screen reading "CCT Network". The signal was low, but I was getting enough juice to at least do a web search.

There was a small tab that had maps as an option and hope swelled through me. If I remembered what those World of Remnant lore videos right, Remnant had no space program which meant no GPS, but maybe they had a way I could triangulate my position using the CCT towers.

The loading bar continued to buffer at snail's pace until it finally brought up a large map that included all the continents. Each continent showed a tower in some random location, most likely each capital of the continent. The towers on the screen flashed blue and a streak of blue light bounced to each one like a pinball. It continued to do that until the light shot off the tower to the far left of the screen and the light stopped just off the eastern coast on the western continent.

Let's see here. There was Vale, Atlas, Mistral and Vacuo. Given the heat and desert setting, I was willing to bet my left nut I was probably in Vacuo. This was good and bad. Good news was I at least had an idea where I was, but the bad news was that I was essentially in the Wild West. No bueno.

I swallowed the saliva in my mouth to sooth my dry throat and zoomed in on my location on the map. Once I zoomed in enough I could see some of the terrain features, but not the ones I wanted. I dragged the map on the screen in each direction to try and find a town or a road. Anything to get me on the right track. Finally I found a hard ball road that was northwest of my position, but it was a long hike. Eight miles, maybe pushing ten. It was kind of hard to get an accurate read without a scale to measure the distance.

"This really blows." I turned myself to face northeast.

The time on my scroll read two-thirty, and that was a punch to the gut. The sun was still rising and it would only get hotter until it set. With this walk I had to do, I had to pace myself and not risk burning all my energy and getting dehydrated quicker. So long as I got to the road before nightfall, I might have a chance. Hard ball roads were always a good sign since that meant it was a main highway and people used it frequently. There was a good chance I could still get out of here if I made it to the road.

At least it wouldn't be insanely hard to navigate my way to the road. Not that I had trouble with it to begin with. I've always had a good sense of direction and it only got better when I had to try and find points during land navigation tests when I was training. Night or day, I found my points and learned how to do it like a pro.

With newfound confidence and hope, I stepped forward and began my walk to the road.

* * *

Holy shit, what I wouldn't give to have some water right now. Seraph really screwed me over. He drops me in a desert and knew that from the get go, yet he couldn't give me a bottle of water? For an angel, the guy was a huge dick.

My tongue and my mouth were completely dry and I was experiencing the worst cotton mouth of my life. Kind of like waking up from a long sleep and you are craving for something to sip on and get some form of relief back. This was worse. My mouth and throat was so dry that it hurt when I would stop to take a deep breath of air.

My shirt was drenched with sweat and I could feel my skin chaffing under the rubbing. It was an uncomfortable burn to go with the sweat rash my hat was giving me despite protecting my face from the sun. And of course, can't have a hike in the desert without your underwear being graced with ball sweat the whole ten yards.

In a moment of sick humor I briefly considered wringing out my sweat to drink it, but immediately dismissed the thought. The sun was really getting to me now and I was finding myself stopping to sit down with a light head frequently.

The walk itself started fine, but it offered me little mercy. I was fortunate enough to find some cactuses and large rocks that offered a small bit of shade that I would use to take a decent break to recover, but looking ahead of me now, it looked like it was just flat desert and brush. No rock formations or anything.

The tip of my shoe caught the ground and I stumbled forward. On any normal day I would have been able to keep my balance, but this time I hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. My teeth clenched tight and my face scrunched up in minor discomfort as my chest slammed into the ground and sent me into a coughing fit.

You know, now that I think about it, this could be worse believe it or not. It's not like I had my ruck where I got like eighty pounds of gear in it from the last march. Just thinking about that was enough to take my mind off of it with a light chuckle.

That was the key for me whenever I had to push on through the pain during training. Try to find humor or something to take your mind off of it. That was the key. Otherwise it got way too easy to quit, and I sure as hell wasn't quitting now. Mostly because it spelled certain death if I did, so that was a no go.

Embrace the suck!

 _"This isn't Ranger School, but it's a good mental test for sure."_ I pushed myself to my knees.

Far ahead through the shimmering heat waves I could see something that seemed to roll over a small hill in the distance. I squinted and blinked a couple of times to make sure that I was not hallucinating. The black line was still there and it still rolled over the hill.

Was that the road? God, please let that be the road!

I was so motivated to reach the road that I started running. Left, right, left, right, left, right. The steady cadence of my feet thudded lightly on the ground and my breath swarmed in and out of my nose and mouth. I could almost feel the dirt clinging to the inside of my nose and the sweat trickled down my face like I was a leaking faucet. The misery my body was going through would be worth it because now I could see the road clear as day and knew that it was not a mirage. I had made it and accomplished the first part of my goal.

I staggered forward and hunched over just as I got to the side of the paved road. Like a lot of my runs during the PT test I took, I had a notorious record for puking because I did everything I could to break a fourteen minute two mile time. This time was no different. The bile shot up my throat and sprayed the ground like a spritz from a sprinkler. Barely much of anything from the lack of water in my body.

It took me a moment to stand upright and regroup because of my lightheaded state and it was difficult to breathe. I was sucking some air right now, similar to how I did when I was training in Arizona. My hands found the back of my head and I tried to get my breathing under control as I looked up and down the road.

The road itself was a standard two lane highway. Cars or semis would be coming from both directions and all I needed was one to stop and pull over so I could hitch a ride to the closest town. Step two was now in play. Just to give you an idea of how desperate I was for a ride, I was about to hand any driver that stopped all of my money. Call it a foolish move, but what would you do in that situation?

With no cars coming I decided to follow the road north. Handrailing the road was my best option to be seen, but I had to be careful of drivers that may not be paying attention. Didn't want to get turned into a hood ornament.

As I walked I pulled out my scroll after taking a look at the sun. It was now four-thirty. It was a two hour walk from the shore and through the desert to find the road. I took a risk and it actually turned out in my favor. It felt good, but it was going to be all for nothing if I couldn't score a ride.

I could feel the wind caress my exposed skin and whoosh loudly as it blew by me. When it died down I felt myself shiver. It felt great to have nature's air conditioning hitting me full blast and I waited patiently to get another round of it.

A small smile spread across my face when I heard it coming from behind. Wait a minute, behind? It came from my right just a second ago.

I quickly spun around when it got louder and I threw my arms up in the air and waved them like a drunk maniac. Far down the road I could see a vehicle coming towards me.

Please pull over! Please pull over! Please pull over!

The vehicle got closer and closer and I could see it slowing down as it reached me. There was a god in heaven! The sound of a loud motor was like music to my ears as the driver came to a stop just in front of me and parked.

The vehicle was reminiscent of an old Jeep Wrangler. Its windshield looked as though it was painted with sand save for the visible wiper marks that allowed the driver to see. The black paint was chipped in various places to show white and grey scratches. There were no doors on it, something that made me a little uncomfortable since it offered the chance to fall out. Despite it looking beat up, it sounded strong as it idled.

Through the windshield I could see the driver. It was a young woman who had sun kissed skin and long white hair that was tied in a low ponytail. A couple of stray bangs shielded her forehead and came just above the dark sunglasses over her eyes.

The woman stepped out of the jeep and her heavy footsteps met my ears as her boots landed on the pavement. After she came around the front of the jeep I got a better look at her. She was fairly tall, about my height. Her outfit consisted of some cargo pants that hugged her flared hips and underneath her utility vest was a blue tank top. The getup alone screamed mercenary and my hand dropped down to my waist, close to my pistol.

The woman said nothing and merely pulled her sunglasses down enough to look at me with her piercing blue eyes.

"You lost?" She asked me.

Straight to the point. I like that.

"Yeah," I managed to croak back. "Can you give me a ride?"

The woman pushed her sunglasses back up and rested her hand on her hip.

"Maybe, but do me a favor first and show me both of your hands. Slowly," she said.

I did as she asked and let my hands hang freely by my sides. She seemed to relax a little bit after I did that and she walked closer to me.

"What's in it for me? I'm wasting time by stopping to check on you, and in my line of work money is everything," she said with a cross of her arms.

My hand was fast to pull out my wallet and that was enough for the woman to draw a knife and hold it at my throat. Her eyes were no longer friendly and I could see their edge through her glasses alone. My free hand was up in a plea to keep her from attacking.

"I'm willing to give you all the money I got in my wallet if you just take me to the next town," I said as I opened it to show her the lien.

"How much do you have?" She asked.

"I honestly don't know. Look, I'm having a really bad day and could use all the help I can get. The money's yours if you just take me somewhere."

She sucked her teeth and lowered her knife and took my wallet with her other hand. For the longest moment she looked down at the lien in my wallet and I could see the grimace on her lips. That alone told me she was disappointed with whatever I had, which I knew from the beginning wasn't much.

The woman sighed and fished out two of the plastic cards and tossed my wallet back to me. She pocketed the money and jerked her thumb to the jeep.

"All right, look. I took twenty-two hundred lien from you as payment for gas. I left you with some money because you look pathetic right now, and unless you know how to fight or steal, you're going to have a rough time when you get to town," she said.

She took how much? Fuck, how did the currency work here? I mean, she did leave me money at the end of the day, but I needed to figure out how to do the math here if I wanted a chance to save some of my money and use it wisely. They were never specific on how lien worked in the show, but from the sound of it I always guessed it was equivalent to pesos or yen. Definitely something to look up on my scroll on the ride to town.

"Get in or I'm leaving you here," the woman said as she climbed in the jeep.

* * *

I snapped from my stupor and hopped in the passenger seat. Even though the seat itself looked uncomfortable, it was actually nice and pleasant. It offered a nice rest for my legs and that was what I needed.

Something cold dropped in my lap and I looked down to see a large bottle of water. The woman's hand returned to the steering wheel a second later as she started to drive. Not wasting a second I immediately unscrewed the cap and guzzled the water down. The elixir of life never tasted so good. I even pulled my hat off to drench my hair with some of it and felt the ice cold liquid drip down my head and soak into my hair.

"Thank you," I said to the woman as I put my hat back on.

"Put your hat back on. It'll keep your face from getting burned," she said back.

I did as she said and pulled my hat back on and leaned back in my seat. The wind that met me felt great and the steady drive was allowing my muscles to relax to the point I was ready to fall asleep. Falling asleep would make the drive go by faster and just as I was about to close my eyes, the woman next to me spoke up.

"So, do you want to tell me why you were wandering the desert without any gear?" She asked, not once taking her eyes off the road.

I said nothing and kept my eyes closed. There was no way I could tell her the truth without coming across as insane and I knew this woman could probably kick my ass if I followed the logic of physics in Remnant. Everyone here had aura and if it was unlocked, they were essentially superhuman.

Instead, I took a leaf from my younger days and decided to lie. Everyone lied and I did too, but definitely nowhere near as much as I did when I was younger. The reason was because every time you lied and it got bigger, it would eventually burst in your face and your punishment was practically a humiliating money shot.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," I lied with a shake of my head. "Don't even remember how I got here. Just woke up on a beach way back that way."

This got a reaction from the woman and I saw her head turn to me with a small raise of her brow.

"You woke up on the beach and you made it to the road?" She asked as if she was somewhat impressed.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You're lucky. A lot of people die in between here and the coast without some company or a vehicle."

"How's that?"

"Use your head. You're in the desert for starters. Not only that, there are some nasty Grimm and bandits out here."

The color from my face drained and a small chill went down my spine. I completely forgot about that. Maybe I caught a break? I mean, you'd think they would have been over me with how negative I was being earlier when I woke up. Guess I must have calmed down enough to avoid detection.

"What kind of Grimm?" I asked.

"Too many to list, but the ones you need to watch for out in the desert are Crustbusters," the woman answered back.

"Crustbusters? What do they look like?"

"Have you ever seen a centipede?"

I nodded back and she smirked lightly.

"They look like that, only they're huge, black and heavily armored. Takes about five people to take one of those things down," she said.

"Oh…" I simply said in return.

I guess I shouldn't be too surprised about that. There were tons of Grimm that existed and the fans were only exposed to a few of them that became staple in the series. That's where creativity came into play and it brought both incredible ideas and a lot of stupid ones to balance it out. But back to the matter at hand, five people against one Crustbuster to take it out reminded me of how Team RWBY and JNPR took down the Nevermore and Death Stalker respectively. Big Grimm meant teamwork.

"How big are these Crustbusters?" I asked, almost regretting doing so.

"About the size of a house," the woman replied casually without missing a beat.

A house!? Are you kidding me? That was the average size of one of those things? Holy crap, I guess I did luck out.

"They like to burrow underground and will attack anyone that walks over them or they sense with negative emotion. Word of advice, if you ever see the ground rise and start to move, run for the nearest rock."

Okay, that just screamed Tremors.

More water shot down my throat when I took another drink and relaxed deeper into the seat.

"How did you end up on the beach? Did you fall overboard? Piss off some mercenaries and they left you for dead?" She asked.

"Don't know. I don't remember anything before waking up." The lie continued.

The woman let out a sigh and gave me a firm look.

"Look, we got a long drive and I hate awkward silences. It's nice to have someone to talk to, so can you not be a stick in the mud?" She asked.

You're kind of asking me for a lot right now, honey.

"Long story short, I got caught up in a botched robbery. I got shot in the chest and the next thing I know, I wake up on the beach," I said.

"Ah, so you were lying," she said with a small smirk.

Her face scrunched up in confusion as if she reflected on what I said and she slowed the jeep down enough to take a look at my chest. Her eyes spotted the bullet hole and her hand drifted to touch it. When her finger crept inside and probed my chest she looked up at me again.

"How are you still alive?" She asked.

"I guess my aura saved me?" I weakly defended.

"Bullshit. You wouldn't have that wound if your aura saved you."

"What do you want me to say?"

My glare fell on her and she stared back at me expectantly.

"I'm just trying to understand how it's possible. Excuse me for trying to make conversation," she said before speeding up again.

"That makes two of us," I mumbled back.

Silence fell between us and I immediately felt bad. This woman was kind enough to take me to a town and all I was doing was acting like a jerk. She was similar to me in a way when it came to car rides with other people. It felt weird to sit in silence, and although silence is golden at times, it just felt odd. Try not saying something to someone on a ride the entire time. It feels awkward and tense, and I hated that feeling.

My eyes trailed back over to the woman after I finished off the bottle of water. I spotted a tattoo on her shoulder. It was dark brown and in the shape of a fox's head. Out of curiosity and a need to repair the damage I caused, I decided to talk again.

"What's with the tattoo?" I pointed at it.

She didn't answer back and I shifted quietly in my seat. Guess I deserved the cold shoulder after that one.

"It's my group's mark," she finally spoke back.

"Your group?" I asked.

"Each mercenary group has its way of marking its members. It's an honor and privilege to have one because it not only shows how strong you are, but it shows everyone who you represent and it helps gain new clients. More clients means more business, more business means more money."

Huh, that was kind of cool. It was similar to earning a tab in the military. Tabs were like extra points for being a badass depending on which one you got. My dream tab was the Ranger tab to go along with an Airborne or Air Assault badge, but I never got the chance to try and earn it.

"Which group are you with?"

She spared me a quick look and smiled proudly.

"Desert Fox. We got a reputation for being the best mercenary group around. Whatever the job, we always complete it. For the right price, of course," she said.

A mercenary group named after one of the greatest tank commanders in the world, Erwin Rommel. Well, okay, it was his nickname, but damn that guy was a monster. If this mercenary group was one of the best like she claimed, then it was a fitting name.

"How did you become a mercenary?"

The woman shrugged and let her arm rest on the back of the seat.

"I got an offer from the leader of the group since I worked with him back when I was a soldier in Atlas," she answered.

It wasn't uncommon for people in that line of work to pursue something along the lines of a PMC. It got hard to leave that lifestyle behind for something else after being in it for so long, and I guess that's what happened with the woman beside me.

"The money was good and I was bored, so here I am." She shrugged.

"Huh." I nodded in return.

Well, I didn't know much about this woman, but she already had my envy. Not for having a cool job or being a badass, but for going after what she wanted. I had things I wanted, but lacked motivation and drive to go get it. The few times I made that happen was because I really wanted it, and it was a bitter reminder as I dwelled on it. My lack of drive for my goals only told me that I did not want it enough despite telling myself I did want them.

I was trying to do something that did not fall in line with me and make it work, but no matter how hard I tried, it only made me jaded.

What the hell did I want in my life?

"What's your name?" The woman looked at me.

Her question roused me from my deprecating thoughts and I turned back to answer her.

"J-." My mouth quickly closed shut. I almost let my old name slip.

"Dustin Stone," I managed to correct myself.

My early slip of the tongue earned a quick look from the woman, but she seemed to dismiss it without much thought. She nodded and brought her bottle of water up to her lips.

"What about you?" I asked.

The woman paused after setting her bottle down on the seat and gave me another sideways glance. She turned her eyes back to the road and kept her mouth closed.

"Hail." Her voice carried over the revving of the jeep's engine.

A name relating to ice? It was a nice name, but my gut was telling me that it was probably a call sign or codename. You would never want to give your real name out in this profession. You make one enemy and they got their hands on anything about your personal life, they would do everything they could to break you.

"That's a nice name." I nestled back in the seat.

Another bottle landed in my lap. More water.

"Keep drinking." Hail returned her hand to the steering wheel.

After unscrewing the fresh bottle I took another long gulp. It tasted just as fresh as the first one.

Although my day had been crappy after I died, maybe I finally hit the bottom and was starting my way up.

* * *

 **That's the chapter folks. We meet Hail, the first of a handful of key OCs that will play a big part in the story before we get to canon. Next chapter we will get to see two of our favorite canon characters. If any of you are curious to the lien to dollar standard I'm running in the story here, I'm basing it off of yen. 112 yen supposedly makes a dollar, Hail ended up taking about twenty bucks from me at the end of the day.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here with an update for the new year. Thanks a bunch for the support with the follows, favorites and review, guys. It means a lot. Let's get to it.**

 _Italics: Thoughts/Letters/Flashbacks_

* * *

A bump made my eyes snap open and my head swiveled around wildly. To my left I could see Hail sparing me a look of mild amusement as she continued to drive. I'm not sure when I dozed off, but it was enough to pass the time.

Not too far ahead I could see dozens of buildings. The first sign of civilian life since coming here. A place where I would have to learn how to start again and make a living so long as my route to purification was in play. This would be the biggest challenge of my life and it needed to be met head on and accomplished.

"Almost there," said Hail.

My eyes trailed back to her.

"Where exactly is there?" I asked her.

She spared me another glance and sighed. It was one of mild annoyance. Before I fell asleep, she had to answer a good chunk of questions I had that popped into my head. It gave me a lot of insight of what to expect, but not once did I ask for the name of the town she was taking me.

"The place where I'm meeting my client to get paid," said Hail.

It may have been my imagination, but the mention of her client seemed to make her hands tighten on the steering wheel to the point her knuckles where a ghostly white. Yikes.

"That didn't answer my question," I muttered.

"I'm aware of that. Sorry. This client in particular has used our services before, but he always seems to be short on money when we come knocking. Personally, I think he's full of it," she continued with a shake of her head.

Let's try something else instead. Maybe she just needed to vent a little more before we got into the town?

"Who's this client?" I asked her.

Hail sucked her teeth and took another sip from her water bottle.

"Not worth mentioning. I swear, that cockroach must've made a deal with the devil himself to still be alive," she answered in return.

Okay, good talk.

I pulled my hat off to allow my matted, sweaty hair a breath of fresh air. God knows I'm gonna' need a shower before this day is done, and a new set of clothes. Walking through that desert soaked my clothes so bad that they became like a second skin that hardened to me on the drive. Not like they were worth salvaging anyway. Needed new clothes to be suitable for this environment, but at least that wouldn't be too hard. My fashion sense was as dead as disco.

My fingers ran over the curve of the bill on my hat and I gazed down at my treasured top. Hats were not something I invested in much when I was younger and I never started wearing one until I was required to wear my PC as a cadet in college. No. Dad was always the one that wore a hat. Far back from what I could remember, he would wear one every day he was outside working around the house or when he was leaving for work in the morning, and I never understood the appeal of them. Now though, I think I can safely say I know why he did.

They were convenient and voiced your opinion depending on the brand that was on the front. Much like my old man, my hat collection supported all Wisconsin sports teams. Badgers. Packers. Brewers. Hell, even one Bucks hat. But the one in my hand was currently a tossup favorite with my old camo colored Badger hat. My Milwaukee Brewers hat.

The large, cursive M was enhanced by the dark golden thread that outlined it and the strand of barley that rested below it. They may now be the new lovable losers of baseball, but my dad introduced them to me when I was a kid and although their seasons brought a lot of disappointment, I became a fan of them and eagerly awaited the day they would win the World Series just so I could say that I didn't jump on the bandwagon when it eventually happened. And I always dreamed I would be able to see it with my dad one day.

Sucks how life works out sometimes.

The tip of my thumb traced the letter and it became somewhat skewed. The familiar stinging sensation of tears prodded the corners of my eyes and I quickly rubbed them away. My family started to creep their way back into my mind for the first time since bleeding out on the gas station floor. Did they know I was gone now? How badly were they taking the news? What about the rest of my family and my friends?

The more I thought about it, the more it hurt. It's true that no parent should have to bury their kid. It was supposed to be the other way around. I wasn't supposed to be here because of a stupid gas refill gone wrong!

"Hey, are you okay?" Hail spoke up.

"What?" I looked back at her.

"Your hands were shaking. Are you feeling okay?"

About as good as I can be given the circumstances. My head bobbed with a light nod, if only just to steer the conversation away from possible follow up questions relating to it. It seemed to work though since Hail shrugged it off as she steered the jeep alongside a curb to park it.

She shut off the jeep and climbed out giving a long stretch. Her shirt and vest stretched up a little bit to expose her midriff. When her arms fell back to her sides she turned to the back seat and rummaged around for something. Her hands pulled out a fairly large rifle and she slung it over her shoulder.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Dustin." She tipped her shades at me.

That's right. Our deal was to bring me to the closest town and she did that. Even though I just met Hail, it bummed me out. She was the only company I had so far and to see her leaving so soon filled me with a sense of dread and loneliness.

Maybe it was a subconscious fear of being alone and venturing into the unknown that I was craving company, but I didn't want her to leave just yet. It was weird to want company for a change since I was used to being alone and never had the urge to find someone to talk to. Sure, I had friends and needed to talk to people every now and then to keep relationships strong and stay sane and normal, but it never bothered me much. And it was also something that Seraph listed as a weakness of mine.

Hail had long since turned around and walked down the sidewalk while I was lost in thought. Fortunately I caught her snow white hair round a corner and into a nearby building. If what she said earlier was true, that's where she was meeting her client to get paid.

I put my hat back on and made sure my pistol was ready to go just in case I bumped into some random thug or thief. This was Vacuo after all. You survive here, you can survive anywhere… allegedly. In a way I kind of viewed it as the Africa of Remnant. Too far? Well, whatever, it's similar either way.

Boisterous laughter met my ears as I reached the doors to the building. A quick glance inside painted something straight out of an old Clint Eastwood western. It was a bar that was packed with shady looking people who were partaking in many vices. Gambling, excessive drinking, fighting, some even looking ready to pull a knife or a sidearm from their hip as they glared at the person across from them. The bar was the only place I could see that had vacant seats and it would allow me to sit down to hopefully have a drink and collect my thoughts.

A scuffle broke out at the table just beyond the door. Two large and clearly drunk men had fistfuls of each other's shirts and were winding their arms back to punch each other wherever they had an opening. Fists went to the face, the shoulders, you name it.

Okay, I was definitely out of my league here. I didn't like to fight unless provoked into one, and I'm not one to gloat, but most of the fights I've gotten into I've come away the victor with the exception of three. One stalemate and two that were broken up after getting an ass kicking. This was a whole new level of wild that I wanted no part of.

Goddamn-it.

After taking a deep breath, I pushed the doors open wide and kept my eyes front towards the bar. My feet thumped lightly on the floor and I made sure not to break stride or shift my gaze. No need to start an unnecessary fight. It didn't help that I could almost feel every eye in the bar on me as I walked.

I sat down in the first open chair I found and leaned forward on the bar. The bartender came up to me a second later with narrowed eyes.

"Okay kid, I need to see some ID," he said with crossed arms.

Figures. That was something that sucked about looking younger than I was. You know how embarrassing it is for me to sometimes get asked that question when I bought a rated M game or going to see an R rated movie? Some said I should take it as a compliment, but it was still something that made me shake my head when it happened.

My wallet came free from my pocket a second later and I pulled out my ID. Hopefully he'd take it. Hell, I didn't even know what year it was here. The setting of the show made it seem like a modern or near future timeframe.

When the bartender took my card he gave it a long look. A thick eyebrow rose as he stared down at it and then back to me. His eyes reverted back to the card.

"What the hell is Wisconsin?" He asked me as he handed my license over.

"Nothing important now. Now can I please have a drink or are we going to keep playing this stupid game of twenty questions?" I put my license back in my wallet.

His eyes narrowed at me and he pulled out a fresh glass.

"Watch your tone around here, kid. You say that to the wrong guy, you'll be dead before you know it," he said as he slid the glass to me.

I'll be sure to keep that in mind.

A grunt of thanks left me when he poured what appeared to be whiskey into the glass. Fine with me. Whiskey and rum were my go to.

The glass touched my lips and the scent alone had a strong kick that shot up my nostrils and danced around my brain. A shudder went down my spine and I tilted my head back to welcome it. The muscles in my throat strained and I shook my head at the sharp bite it left behind. Sour as all hell, just like Jack Daniels.

"Vacuo's finest right there. Called Death's Delight," said the bartender.

Of course it is.

I swirled the glass after taking another sip and let the alcohol swish in my mouth to adapt to the taste a little better. Another look around the bar gave me more insight to the layout. It was always good to have situational awareness. It kept me alive long enough back in the gas station and it would keep me alive so long as I was here.

There was only one noteworthy exit and it was the main entrance. One side door stood off behind the bar, but it looked like it led to a back room. Other than that, there were only windows that would give me the stylish exit and lead to glass cutting into me. I would avoid that route as much as I could because getting cut or impaled with glass hurt something good.

Now that the layout of the bar was fresh in my mind, I started to look for Hail. The bar was packed and I had not seen her since she entered it. Maybe it was possible was in the bathroom? Not likely. Didn't see one when I scanned the place a second ago. Seriously, how hard was it to find a woman with white hair? She should be sticking out like a sore thumb!

The last of my whiskey raced down my throat and I set the glass back on the counter.

"Another one." I flagged the bartender down.

The refill came quick and was to the brim. I would have to slow it down after this one. As much as I love whiskey, I'm not in college anymore and can't drink like I used to. You wouldn't believe it if you saw my size, but you're looking at a guy who drank a two hundred and fifty pound frat boy under the table. One of my drunk crowning achievements outside of doing seventy second keg stand and drinking a whole handle of rum in one day. Definitely not something to be proud of, but I got that party side from my old man.

I sipped the whiskey down enough to keep it from spilling on the counter and set the glass back down. With another look around the bar, I finally spotted Hail. She was dwelling in a booth that was hidden in the corner near a window. Her shades were up and her eyes were fixed in a piercing stare as she looked at the person across from her. She was not amused and it was clear that the client was giving her the runaround like she mentioned earlier.

Taking a look at the guy across from her, he didn't seem like much. He was tall, but not bulging with muscle like some of the other guys in the bar. His form looked more lean than anything as his toned arms were clear under his white t-shirt and black vest. The man's fiery orange hair was unkempt.

I couldn't help but stare at the man Hail was talking to. Something seemed familiar about him. His body language reeked of smug confidence as he leaned back in his seat with his arms resting on the leather of the booth. There was also a small trail of smoke coming from his mouth. A smoker with orange hair…

Wait a minute.

I craned my neck and was able to get a full view of the table. In front of the man was a black bowler hat with a red stripe going around the base. My eyes widened in surprise. Now I knew who it was.

"Roman?" I could only blink in disbelief.

Man, what happened to him? He didn't look anything like he did when the show first started. In fact, the guy looked like a bum. Some random lowlife thug that was looking to make a big score.

My mouth was hanging open in silent shock. It was still hard to believe I was looking at one of the most loved and one of my favorite villains of the show in front of me. This was something that would leave the most hardcore fans shaking with excitement. Almost like meeting your favorite actor or rock star.

In my silent shock, this kind of clued me in to my current situation. Seraph dropped me in Remnant, that much I knew, but the timeframe didn't come to mind until just now. Roman was alive and he had no signs of damage that would have been present if he somehow survived getting swallowed and blown up in volume three. This was sometime before shit hit the fan, and by the looks of it, it was way before it. Probably even before volume one.

"Holy Mary Mother of…"

The sentence died in my throat courtesy of a light tap that came from my shoulder. Turning my head enough to see who was trying to get my attention, I was met by air. Before I could turn back, a streak of pink and brown met my eye.

A quick look down almost made me spill my whiskey in surprise. There beaming up at me with a cute smile was Neo.

"Uh… hey," I said with a small smile.

The smile on her face widened and she climbed into the empty seat next to me.

Okay, I needed to pick my jaw off the floor here. Not one, but two of the fandoms favorite characters were now in a bar with me. If I was still back on Earth, this would be a great story. Not that anyone would believe me, though. Either way, it was still a sight to behold.

Neo's clothes were a little different, too. She still wore those brown pants that hugged her hips, but she also donned a black tank top that hugged her petite frame.

With a snap of her fingers she redirected my attention to her face. The smile was gone and was instead replaced with a small scowl. That's what happens when you stare at a woman too long and she's not interested. In this case I was more focused on her new outfit than anything, but that excuse wasn't going to do jack for me in this situation.

"Sorry. You look cute, is all."

The words were out of my mouth before I could even think. That was another problem I had. My mind was always going a mile a minute and with so much crap flying around my head, I talked without thinking my words over. It didn't help that I was naturally a fast talker, either. Often came off like a bumbling and nervous teenager.

Thankfully my words seemed to please the smaller girl as the smile came back to her lips. She then pointed to my glass of whiskey and I rose a brow. That's right, she's mute as far as everyone knows. People often took creative liberties when writing her and I was no exception. I always had Neo talk using her scroll as if typing a text message, but she seemed keen on using her hands this time around.

"What am I drinking?" I tried to guess what she was saying.

She nodded.

"Death's Delight."

Neo grimaced and her face scrunched up disgust. Guess she wasn't a whiskey drinker at the end of the day. Her pink and brown eyes turned back to the selection of liquor on the other side of the bar. Following her finger, I saw her pointing straight at a bottle of clear liquor.

What was that? Moonshine? Vodka? Gin?

She pointed at it again and kept her eyes on me. Ah, so she was that kind of girl. Sparing a quick look back at Hail, I saw that she was still engrossed in her conversation with Roman. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Might as well see if Neo would be willing to keep me company for a bit.

Going off instinct again, I gave her a small smile and swirled my whiskey around.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Neo nodded happily and the smile that came to her face threatened to split it in two as the bartender came back with a glass of the clear liquor. Once she had it, I raised my glass towards her.

"Cheers."

A small chime came as our glasses met and we took a long drink.

* * *

 _ **(Hail)**_

My fingers tapped the table lightly in a slow rhythm. Roman was late, as usual. God, he had to be the worst client we had. I respected Stump with all my heart, but I did not see the appeal of keeping Roman as a client. If it were up to me, I would have cut ties with him ages ago. Especially after the cockroach and his pint-sized partner ducked out of paying us for the first job.

It was the same song and dance. He'd hire us for a job and say he had the money, but we never saw a single piece of it. The contract he signed with us when he became a client gave him the ability to pay us after the mission was done. It was a stupid rule for mercenaries, but we had to follow the code. Every client had to pay the mercenary after the job, but if the mercenary failed the job, they didn't have to be paid. Every time the job was completed, Roman would claim he wasn't satisfied and didn't pay because he 'neglected' to mention a small bit of information that acted as a safeguard.

This guy was using us as his henchmen to do his bitchwork and it made my skin crawl. If I wanted to take orders from some boss that had a sense of self-importance, I would have taken a boring office job.

A small smirk danced on my lips. He may have pulled a fast one on us, but he failed to realize that we're not stupid. Before I took the last job he requested of us, I took the liberty of hacking his scroll when Stump had him occupied and found the little loophole he planned to use. The target I had to take down was allegedly transporting a shipment of dust and cash to a group of bandits that he wanted to be brought to him, but the truck was bone dry. What Roman didn't tell us was that the target was set to complete the shipment three days before the start of the mission.

I took out the target and the small group of bandits he was meeting with and took the shipment for our group to turnover for profit. My job was to corner Roman and show him that we knew he was lying. It was our way to show him we were going to come after him after he lied to us. Although I wanted my money, part of me wanted him to refuse so it would give me a reason to blow his head off.

"Ah, Hail! I've been looking for you!"

Speak of the asshole.

My fingers lifted my shades to rest on the top of my head and my eyes bore into his. He had that cocky smirk on his face as he twirled his cane lightly.

I took a deep breath to calm myself before smiling up at him.

"Well, you found me. So let's get down to business."

Roman clicked his tongue and took his hat off as he sat down across from me. He rested his hat on the table and kept his cane close to him. He may have been a conman, but he was not a pushover. He had taken down huntsmen and made it look easy.

"There's no need to rush, my dear. You just had a long trip, so why don't we have a couple of drinks? I can't imagine you're eager to hit the road so soon," said Roman.

The man was smooth and had charm that could fool any ditzy girl, I'd give him that. That wasn't going to work on me, though. I've been trained to read people and I've become very good at it. This could be used to my advantage though. To my knowledge, he had no clue that I got the jump on him with the job. If he knew that we did, he wouldn't have bothered to show his face.

"I suppose one drink couldn't hurt. You're buying, though," I said with a light shrug.

"Of course. I'm a professional and a gentleman, sweetheart. You should know that by now," Roman answered back, putting a hand on his chest.

"Yeah, I'm sure all the ladies tell you that."

Roman brushed off my remark and whistled at a nearby waiter and beckoned him over. Once the waiter got to the booth, Roman offered me a hand.

"Ladies first." He grinned.

God, I can't wait to wipe that look off your face.

"I'll have a glass of gin," I said to the waiter.

The waiter nodded and turned to Roman.

"Whiskey for me, and don't water it down."

The waiter soon made his way to the bar to fix our drinks which left us some time to talk.

"So, how was the drive?" Roman leaned back in his seat.

"Scenic," was my curt reply.

"The Grimm?"

"Big and scary."

"When was the last time you got laid?"

"Last night. Your mother's a wonderful woman."

This was the shtick he did ever since we first met. He would try to wind me up and he was good at doing it at first, but now it was just like dealing with my brother. Stupid and pointless conversation that led to verbal lashings that would put old drill sergeants to shame. The trick to dealing with that was to play along and try and get a zinger on the one screwing with you.

"What about you, Roman? Can't imagine you got any whores lined up since you're broke," I said.

Roman scoffed and pulled out a cigar and lit it. He took a long puff from it and blew some smoke in my direction. That was his little submission to the talk. He was not one to verbally lash out and instead opted for a more subtle approach.

The smoke hovered around my head and I could feel it sting my eyes. It wafted into my nostrils and tickled the back of my throat. That's two, Roman. Don't get to three.

"I'm far from broke, honey. Since you and your gang of professionals have been playing like the B-Team, I've saved a lot of money," said Roman using air quotes for emphasis.

The waiter returned with our drinks and high tailed it after doing so. He had to have sensed the tension that was growing between us and wanted no part of it. Wise on his end since it had the chance of blowing up quick depending on which buttons were pushed.

I picked up my glass and took a long sip. The gin filled me with a comforting warmth and made my muscles relax. This was just what I needed to keep my head level long enough to deal with the man in front of me.

Roman's brow furrowed a little as the whiskey hit his tongue. He smacked his lips and set his glass down.

"Believe it or not, the B-Team is capable of being an A-Team," I said.

"Really?" Roman rose a brow with a small smirk.

"Yes, really. I know it might be hard for you to comprehend, so I'll try to explain this as simply as possible."

Roman chuckled and sipped his whiskey again.

"Here's the deal, Roman. Stump sent me out here to collect the money you owe us for this mission and the last couple you said we botched. You're going to give me that money before I leave the bar," I said.

The conman laughed and wiped a fake tear from his eye. He was clearly enjoying his perceived victory, but we'll see how long he can keep a straight face with what I had to tell him yet.

"I don't owe you anything, Hail. It says so in the contract. You mess up, I keep my money. You blew four jobs for me and I know you blew this one, too," said Roman.

I took another drink of gin and smirked at him. This made the man look back at me with mild amusement.

"And how do you know that? You gave us all of the information before we carried it out, right?" I challenged him.

My arms crossed under my chest as I leveled him with a flat stare. From what I could tell, I had his attention. His eyes were somewhat narrowed as he stared back at me.

"Of course I did," Roman answered back with a toothy grin.

You're so full of it!

"Are you sure, Roman? Because if you're lying to me, you're really not going to like what happens next," I told him.

"What are you going to do? Kill me?" He smirked back.

My head swayed as I shook it. He was going to be in for a nasty surprise.

"As tempting as that is, no. I'm not going to kill you," I answered him.

"I thought so," Roman said as he brought his whiskey back to his lips.

"But Stump told me to bring you back to him if you were."

Roman's mouth twitched into a grimace and cough escaped him a second later. He put his glass back down on the table and lightly thumped his chest to clear his throat.

"You're bluffing," he said.

"Am I?" I pulled out my scroll and went to my text messages.

My hand held the scroll up for him to see and his eyes darted back and forth across the screen. The message Stump gave me was clear and it was one of my tools of persuasion to use again the worm. Stump told me to show Roman the message in case he called me out. My boss never lied and Roman knew that very well. It was his own personal business statement with every client that contracted us. With that in mind, you can bet that I enjoyed every second of it as some of the color drained from his face.

The crook grimaced and swallowed lightly.

"Your target is dead. Same goes for those bandits he was taking the cargo to," I said.

Roman only blinked back and took a long drink from his glass. He was on the ropes now and I was sure he was planning his escape. Not that he would get far, anyway. I had a jeep and I could chase him down and bring him to the extraction point where Stump and the rest were waiting with a Bullhead.

"Not bad, Hail," said Roman.

It was subtle, but I could see his arm move slightly. His hand was inching towards his cane and he was getting ready to fight his way out. Another quick look around the bar made me reassess the problem. If he instigated a fight with a gunshot or provoking some random guy, it would turn this place into a bloody brawl.

I polished off the last of my gin and my hand rested by my hip. My fingertips graced my knife. He was probably counting on me to use my gun, but that as only for a distraction. The only way I was bringing out my rifle was if he got away and I needed to put one in his ass to drop him.

"We know you've been lying to us. If you come with me now, Stump will be a little more merciful. If you run, consider your contract with us terminated," I said.

For a fleeting moment, Roman seemed to consider the decision, but I knew better. This man would risk making a break for it if it meant staying alive and free of a debt. He was a coward like that.

"Can you live with yourself if you do that?" Roman's tone was calm once again.

His quick shift in demeanor was a red flag. Was he getting ready to run?

"What do you mean?" My eyes narrowed at him.

Roman finished his whiskey and put on his hat. He turned his eyes back to me and a smug grin spread across his lips.

"Can you live with yourself if someone innocent dies here because of your little bone with me?"

His eyes then flicked to the bar and lingered on one man in particular. Next to the man I could see Roman's partner Neo, happily conversing with him. Her umbrella was by her hand and looked ready for a quick stab. The man turned his head and I immediately frowned.

When did Dustin get here?

"You try to do anything, Neo kills your lay. We saw you two talking by your jeep earlier," said Roman.

Damn it! This was quickly turning back on me and it was all Dustin's fault! Whether it was because he followed me or was just trying to find help, he got involved in the worst possible way. By getting in the middle of a job.

"Go ahead," I answered back. "He means nothing to me."

Roman blinked and hummed under his breath. He then burst out laughing and his hand grabbed a hold of his cane.

"Damn, Hail! You really are the Ice Queen, aren't you?" His fingers drummed the table.

"That's right." I nodded back.

Neo had her umbrella ready to go and Dustin looked too distracted in talking with her to notice it. Come on! If you made it through the desert in one piece, you should be able to watch your ass in a goddamn bar!

He was probably drunk from talking to Neo for so long.

"Well, I hope he was good enough in the sheets for ya'!"

It happened fast, but I was long since ready for it. The table had flipped up and Roman had fired a quick shot from the tip of his cane and hit a man in the back. When the man shot forward from the hit and collided with another, the tables nearby erupted into a fray that spread like a wildfire. Guns and blades were drawn and the bar was filled with angry yells and shouts.

A gun went off with a loud bang and then came another and another. Bullets hissed and glass shattered as they hit the windows and any glasses on the table. Roman was gone, but that wasn't my concern.

My rifle was aimed high and aimed for Neo. The small woman met my gaze and her eyes widened in slight surprise. She must have expected me to go after Roman, but her partner successfully called my bluff.

The tip of my finger ghosted the trigger and pulled. A growl escaped me when Neo shattered into pieces, leaving a stunned Dustin to fall out of his chair and stare at the spot the girl had been a moment before.

There was no time to check on him.

I bolted out of the bar and my hair flipped wildly as I looked up and down the road. Far in the distance I could see Neo and Roman round a corner and out of sight. There was no way I could hunt them down on foot and if I took the jeep, they would be long gone.

My rifle shook lightly in my arms and a shaky sigh escaped me. The anger that filled me was strong and I was having a hard time calming down.

I had him! I fuckin' had him!

My rifle retook its position on my shoulder when I slung it. The wood beside me splintered as the side of my fist slammed into it a second later.

Unbelievable!

Just like that, my scroll vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out a second later. After seeing who it was, I took a deep breath and answered it.

"Do you have him?" A gruff voice asked me.

Teeth pushed their way into my bottom lip and my knuckles cracked as they formed a tight fist.

"Negative. I had him and he managed to get away," I answered.

A long pause filled the line and my heart pounded hard. This was the one man I did not like to fail. Every time I did, he would give me a disappointed look. He never chewed me out, but I honestly wished he would do that instead. The silence and disappointment made it feel as though the level of trust between us was diminishing. Like if I kept failing, he would keep me from doing important jobs and shift me to more manageable ones where the pay was not great.

"What happened?" He asked.

"He targeted a civilian and used another one with Neo to bait me."

No point in lying. He always knew when I did.

"Okay. Meet us at the rally point," he said.

"Got it. I'm on my way back now, Stump."

The line clicked as he hung up. I folded my scroll and tucked it back in my pocket. Just great.

Not only do I fail the mission and disappoint Stump, but I did it because I decided to save some guy I don't even know. If I didn't do that, Roman would be currently be bound in zipties and I would be driving to the rally point with a big grin on my face.

Speaking of the guy, I turned to look back in the bar. He was stirring on the floor and clutching his head. At least he was still alive.

I entered the bar again and made my way over to Dustin. He opened his eyes and squinted up at me as I loomed over him.

"Hail?" He groaned out.

That's right. You and I are going to have a little chat.

My leg raised high and I drove it down. The bottom of my boot connected with his head and sent him to the floor. He lay sprawled out and his eyes were in rolled to the back of his head. Better to make do with the guy that caused me to fail in the first place than go back empty handed.

With a little difficulty, I managed to sling Dustin over my shoulder and got ready to make for the exit.

"Hey!" The bartender called from behind me.

"What?" I glanced back at him.

"That guy owes me money after those drinks!"

"How much?"

"Seven thousand lien."

Jeez, well, there goes the rest of Dustin's money. Actually, now that I think about it, I don't think he has that much. He's just a little short. Well, it's not my money at the end of the day and this will do him some good. Hopefully he'll learn something from all of this.

I sat Dustin back down on the chair and pulled his wallet out and pulled out the rest of his money and slammed it on the counter. I picked him up again and made my way for the door, but the bartender stopped me again.

"He's short!"

"By three hundred lien. I think you'll live," I answered back.

"You're not going anywhere until I get my three hundred lien, lady!"

Quick as a flash, my free hand pulled out my knife and I pointed the tip of it at the bartender's nose. A small drop of blood oozed out and trickled down my blade.

"I think you'll live. If you're that bent out of shape, I'll make sure to send this kid back with the three hundred lien later. But one way or another, I'm leaving the bar and he's coming with me," I said with a slight edge.

The bartender closed his mouth and swallowed lightly as he glared back at me. He took a step back and wiped his nose free of the blood and gave a curt nod to me.

"Fine. Get out of here." He jerked his head to the side.

On my way out of the bar, I made direct eye contact with everyone who sent a look at me. They were quick to turn away, but I knew it only had to do with the tattoo on my shoulder. They knew who I was affiliated with and that if they attacked, it would be like kicking a hornet's nest. One person didn't just engage a mercenary for the hell of it unless they wanted to die a painful death. Mess with one, you mess with all. The only way one would attack a mercenary is if they were labeled as a traitor by the group and a bounty was placed on them.

Mercenary bounties varied depending on the individual's skill, group affiliation and reputation. I'm not trying to toot my own horn here, but if Stump decided to just one day up and throw me to the wolves, I'm sure I'd easily be worth five hundred million lien. Maybe a little more if people knew parts of my past.

The blistering heat met me and I could already feel the sweat forming inside my shirt as I carried Dustin back to the jeep. Once I made it back, I dropped him in the back seat without much care. A muffled grunt escaped the unconscious man and another one came after I ziptied his wrists.

The jeep roared to life and a plume of dust trailed behind us as I drove to the rally point. The sun was starting to set. This was a good thing, namely because no one would be willing to follow me out to the desert at night. Grimm activity picked up along with bandit raids. It was a perfect opportunity to make a getaway.

The rally point was ten miles away from the town, hidden in an old quarry used for dust mining way back in the day. Only one way in and not a good place to hunker down unless you had an aircraft to get you out, which we did. Stump made good on a job a while back where he asked for possession of five fresh Bullheads instead of cash. Something about faster transportation to a job or shipments of cargo. Either way, it was a good trade for one cash job.

Ahead I could see the road fork off to the left that led to a series of dunes. Beyond that was a large drop off where the quarry was hidden. Almost home.

The jeep made its final turn after coming down the twisting path of the pit. In the center of the quarry was a new Bullhead with its ramp down, ready to take me back. On the ramp I spotted two people.

One was my twin brother, Frost. God, I can see his puffed out cheek from here. He loved his dip, but it was a filthy habit. He raised his empty bottle at me as a greeting before spitting a deposit of his chew into the container. Again, gross.

Then on the other side of the ramp was our boss, Stump. The man was nearing fifty, but don't let his age fool you. He's the strongest and most sound man I've ever met in my life. His large frame was lean with muscle that could overpower even the most buff man. His thick brown hair was showing signs of grey at the tips. The cigarette between his dry lips burned as he took another puff.

When I pulled the jeep into the Bullhead, Frost shut the ramp behind me.

"Who the hell is that?" He nodded at Dustin.

I climbed out of the jeep and stretched again.

"The guy who screwed up the mission," I answered him.

Stump's eyes stared down at Dustin for a long moment before he let out a rough grunt.

"Good. Hopefully he's useful," said Stump.

The large man worked his way back to the cockpit and sat in the pilot's seat. The Bullhead hummed as it fired up and hovered in the air before ascending into the sky. Once it was facing southwest, it took off.

I sat down on the closest seat and propped my feet up on the hood of the jeep, all the while keeping an eye on Dustin. He should be out cold long enough to be put in containment.

* * *

 _ **(Dustin)**_

Aw, man… did anyone get the number of that truck that hit me? The light that met my eyes was strong. It was similar to a migraine with how sensitive it was as it felt like knives piercing my brain. None of my concussions or hangovers topped this uncomfortable feeling. Okay, that was a lie. One bad concussion and one Christmas break hangover in college was worse than this, but you get the idea. It hurt like shit.

Air swarmed my nostrils and a long groan escaped me as I managed to pry my eyes open. The moment I did, my head slumped forward and a blur of colors met me so fast that I almost vomited. Okay, great. Minor concussion for sure. What does one this make for me now, number five? Sounds right.

My eyes cleared up enough to show me the floor from the chair I was sitting in. When I tried to move, I found my arms bound behind the back and my legs tied to it. The chair scuffed the floor as I pushed back in surprise.

What was going on? How did I even get in this state?

Let's see, I was at the bar keeping an eye on Hail and Roman. Then I met Neo and we had some drinks… wait, I didn't get roofied, did I? It was kind of a blur. One minute I'm talking to Neo, then all of a sudden it's like Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. Bullets were flying all over the place and people were wailing on each other like they were amped up on PCP.

That's right, then Hail came back and next thing I know, I'm waking up here.

"Hey sleeping beauty, you up?" A young voice met me.

With some difficulty I managed to pick my head up and turn to the person who talked to me. What I didn't expect was to see four people in front of me. I immediately recognized Hail as she sat on the wooden table far in front of me, looking back with an icy glare. The other three were guys. Two of them looked around my age, give or take a year and the last one was a big guy, towering around six five like my old college roommate.

"Who are you? Where am I? And why the hell am I tied up?" I asked.

Three short questions that I wanted answered.

A small click met my ears and my eyes drifted to the tallest member of the group. A zippo lighter had ignited a cigarette between his lips before it clicked shut. The tall man lowered his smoke and his boots made heavy thumps as he walked on the stony floor to me. When he came into the light, I got a better look at him. Tall and lean, probably in his late forties or early fifties. What really got my attention was the tattoo on his left shoulder. It was the same as Hail's.

Taking a chance, my eyes went to the other two in the room, and I could make out the tattoos on their shoulders as well in the small light that reached them.

"I suppose introductions are in order," said the tall man.

He pointed to the first guy.

The man had thick, wild red hair and a strong jaw. Like the others in the room, his body reeked of fitness. He tilted his head up to greet me.

"That's Sonny."

The leader then pointed in the direction of Hail and another man with white hair just like her. In fact, they were probably related. Same eyes, same hair color. The guy had some chew in his mouth and was swishing the bottle of it beside him.

"Those are the twins, Frost and Hail."

"Sup, guy?" Frost smirked at me.

The man turned back to me and took a long drag of his smoke before breathing out a steady stream of it.

"And I'm Stump. Leader of the Desert Fox mercenary group." He finished.

It was becoming clear what this was leading to. They had me bound to the chair to keep me from running and to possibly interrogate me. Hail's glare seemed to burn into me, and that only add fuel to my belief. This probably had to do with her losing Roman and she was taking it out on me. It was almost childish, but that's what happens when you piss off someone who's passionate about their job.

Wood screeched on the floor as Stump pulled up another chair to sit in front of me and plopped down in it. He pulled his cigarette from his mouth and let another wave of smoke leave him.

"You're currently being held in containment on our group's compound, no way out. You're tied up because you caused one of my best to fail a mission," Stump continued, all the while jerking a thumb back at Hail.

He then leaned forward and his eyes narrowed into a stern glare. One that was eerily similar to one my dad gave me whenever I fucked up. What followed was a punishment or verbal lashing that made you seriously question whether or not God turned his back on you.

"So, we're going to have a nice long talk and I'm going to ask you some questions. I want you to give me straight answers. You do that, we'll work with you a little bit. Deal?" Stump crossed his arms.

"Got it." I nodded back.

"But don't lie. If you do, I'll get mad and believe it or not, I'm capable of expressing it in creative and physical ways. Clear?"

That was unpleasant just thinking about it. If I had aura it was locked, which meant I would be getting an ass kicking and then some if they felt I was lying. Here's hoping they didn't ask me something unreasonable.

Guess I'm not out of the woods yet. Still have to hit the bottom on this long day.

"Clear." I nodded again.

* * *

 **That's the chapter, folks. Hope you liked seeing Roman and Neo in the chapter. We also got to see a shift of characters to Hail and we see the rest of the other OCs that'll play a big part in the story towards Dustin's development into his new persona. One thing to note is that whenever I switch point of views in this story, you'll be able to know who it is before the next passage. Let me know what you thought via review. Follow, favorite, and I'll see y'all next time.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks a bunch for the continued support folks, it means a lot to me. Enjoy the chapter and drop a review if you're feeling generous.**

 _Italics: Thoughts/Letters/Flashbacks_

* * *

 _ **(Dustin)**_

If someone were to tell me I would end up getting interrogated to cap off a fucked up day, I'd have rolled my eyes and told them they were full of it. Yet here I sat in a small room surrounded by a bunch of cold blooded mercenaries, all of whom not looking too thrilled with me. To make matters worse, the leader of their group was my interrogator. A solid dude that could probably snap my head off like a praying mantis.

Stump crossed his arms as his eyes continued to bear into me. Now realistically I had a couple of options I could take. The first would be to comply and answer the questions he was going to ask me. The second option and suicidal one would be to do what I was trained. Only give them the necessary information. Either way, I was probably going to get smacked around because any truth I gave would be viewed as impossible by anyone with a shred of intelligence.

"What's your name?" Stump asked me as he swiveled the cigarette between his lips.

I don't know what possessed me to say what I did next. Maybe it was my nerves and witty nature that I did it as an attempt to alleviate the tension, but they were out before I could even think.

"Are you going to ask me what my quest and favorite color is next?"

A harsh stinging sensation flooded my cheek and my eyes screwed shut. That was a good slap. Cold air rushed my nostrils as I took a deep breath and dealt with the pain. Slaps stung like hell when they were done right, and that was one that got me. This guy just slapped me and was about to send me to school.

"Don't start with me, boy. After what you cost us today, I'm tempted to shoot you and leave your body for the buzzards," said Stump. "This is your only warning."

Damn, even the nickname boy sticks with me in Remnant. When I was growing up, that was what my old man called me on a daily basis. It was one of affection, but you'd think he'd have grown out of that as I got older. Nope. It was always "Boy" or "Boy Wonder" with him.

"If you're done being a smartass, let's try this again. What is your name?" Stump said.

Okay, maybe I should just cooperate. This wasn't any of those old action movies I enjoyed where the hero could be a smartass and get smacked around for a bit before the Deus ex Machina escape reared its head. This guy would probably kill me if I continued doing what I was doing. But let's be real here. Who wouldn't milk that opportunity at least once if put in that situation? In fact, I might as well continue it since anything I say won't be viewed as possible anyway!

"Oh, they call me Fez," I answered back. "Let me guess, you're Muscles McGurk?"

Stars filled my vision this time and it only added to my concussion. The room came back a blurred mess and I could vaguely make out the nasty glare on Stump's face as he brought his fist back.

Oh, Jesus. Okay, that one hurt.

"Next time I'm using my gauntlet," said Stump.

I grunted back to acknowledge the man and leaned back in my chair. My eyes slowly came back into focus and Stump's glare had grown more intense, resembling that of a pissed off drill sergeant. Fun time was over.

"Dustin Stone. My name is Dustin Stone." I humored him.

Stump nodded and had his next question ready to go.

"What is your business in Vacuo?"

I shook my head and grimaced as I felt my brain bounce around like a tennis ball.

"I don't have any business here. I'm here by inconvenience," was my response.

"Inconvenience? You don't wake up on a beach and wander the desert by inconvenience. So why were you out there?"

My eyes shifted to Hail and she met my stare for a minute. Why was this even a question? Didn't she give him the full details of everything that happened today? You'd think that they would still follow some form of military standard operating procedures with how similar the work was. In this case, after action reviews or something along those lines.

"Why don't you ask Hail? She was asking me about all of that earlier today." I nodded in her direction.

Stump's eyes shifted back to his subordinate for a brief moment before falling back on me.

"She's filled me in on everything already. I'm seeking confirmation and some gaps that don't make sense," he replied.

"Of course you are." I rolled my eyes.

Well, might as well see how far they'd be willing to let me tell my story before they started wailing on me.

"I just woke up out there, okay? One minute I'm in a gas station filling up, next thing I know I get in a gunfight and get shot, then I'm on the beach," I relayed the story to him.

"Where was this gas station? How did you get from a gas station to the beach?" Stump continued to press.

"I don't know! The guys I had the fight with couldn't have left me there because I dropped all of them!"

Stump cocked an eyebrow and it may have been my imagination, but he looked somewhat impressed with that revelation. He spared a quick look to his team who were all exchanging looks of their own. He turned his head back to me and reached for the back of his pants and pulled out my pistol a second later.

"Did you kill them with this?" He asked me.

I nodded back.

Stump observed the pistol and pulled back on the slide. He must have unloaded the gun while I was knocked out. His eyes did a slow sweep of the gun before he pressed on the slide release and it launched forward as it locked back into place. Hail caught the gun a second later after he tossed it to her and she set it on the table behind her.

On the table I could see my wallet, my hat, my scroll and my pistol was back in the holster with its magazines beside it.

"You got shot too, right?" He pulled his cigarette from his lips to tap off some ash.

I looked back at my shirt where the hole still was and then back at him with a halfhearted glare.

"What the hell gave you that idea?" I offered back.

Stump's eyes narrowed and I uttered an apology. He put his cigarette back between his lips and took another long puff. Smoke left him a minute later and blew in my direction. The tobacco filled air made my nostrils itch and the back of my throat burned a little as well.

"Yeah, I did. It was very unpleasant," I said.

"How did you survive that shot without any aura? Furthermore, how did your wound heal up that quick?" He continued his questioning.

I only shook my head.

My eyes drifted back to my belongings. The small distraction made me tune out the area around me. If they went through my stuff, chances were they already knew a lot of things were off. None of my stuff was from Remnant with the exception of my scroll and they probably knew that. If Stump was high speed like I'm sure he was, he was probably basing the gaps of information around my stuff. He knew something was off from the start and wanted information revolving around them.

"You sure you want to know the answer to that?" I asked him.

"I wouldn't be wasting my time with you if I didn't," was his short reply.

"Fine, but you're going to think it's crazy."

"We've all seen some shit, kid. Whatever you have to say, we'll keep an open mind."

Uh huh, sure you will. Ten bucks says you'll put a bullet in my head after I tell you because you'd think I was mental.

"Okay. What if I was to tell you that I'm not from Remnant? That I'm actually from some other country that is on a different world altogether?" My eyes moved to each one of them.

Their reactions were just how I pictured it. Raised brows and looks of disbelief. Nothing was said after my opening question, so that was my signal to keep talking.

"What if I told you that the world I'm from is similar to this one, but in terms of science, religion and the laws of physics there were some discrepancies?" I continued.

"I'd say you're full of it," Stump answered back.

Told you.

"But given what we know of you so far, I'd be willing to believe you." He nodded back at Hail.

Hail tossed my wallet to him and he pulled out my military ID and my driver's license. Like my observation from before, they knew something was off. The transmigration only affected some of my things, notably my name and my phone, but other than that, my ID still retained their likeness.

"We've been all over Remnant, kid. We know there's no place called Wisconsin or some military known as the U.S. Army." Stump thumbed between my ID.

"Then why even bother asking me about it?" I asked back.

"Because it helps fill in the blanks, Lieutenant."

Aw crap, I can already feel the flak coming from these guys. The wide smirks on their faces only answered my belief. They were probably all enlisted and now having an officer in front of them, they would exploit every opportunity to rip on me.

"So Lieutenant, how did you get to Remnant?" Stump put my ID back in my wallet.

He tossed it back to the table where it landed with a light thud.

"Depending on your views of religion, an angel sent me here as a second chance of life since mine was apparently cut short," I answered back with a small shrug.

"An angel, huh?" Stump grunted back.

"Yeah, an angel. Or is that too much for you grunts to grasp?" I retorted back.

The words were out before I could stop them, but my temper was reaching its breaking point. They wanted the truth, I'll give them the truth. If I said something in between that poked them back and irritated them, then that was fine with me.

In all honesty, that may have been a low blow. Grunts were the guys that got things done for officers when they were tasked out and they easily knew more about the military than any junior officer that came into their group. My little poke could have been like teasing the gorilla in the monkey house.

"Like I said earlier, we've seen and heard some shit, kid. We have our own religions and we are all believers," said Stump.

He let out another puff of smoke and tapped the ash off his cigarette again. With one last puff he pulled it from his lips and flicked the butt of it to the floor where embers danced before vanishing.

"So going off of your logic and word here, I'm going to assume that the gunshot to your chest was healed by the angel before he dropped you on the beach and that your body didn't defend you because aura doesn't fall under the laws of physics where you're from, right?" He asked.

I only nodded back, but that response was way too relaxed for my liking.

It's one thing to see and hear things that are wild and outlandish, but to be so nonchalant about it was unsettling. Either these guys were putting up good poker faces or they really have seen things that transcended the limits of religion and science. No sane person could hear that without asking too many questions or laughing at the sheer impossibility, but they were brushing it off as simple as a childish insult. Almost ironic. They should be the ones getting hysterical, but it was really me coming unglued by the second with their dismissiveness.

The questioning continued and I kept playing along by answering each of Stump's questions and explaining the story of how I got to being thrown in their interrogation room. Some things that I kept to myself was my knowledge of Remnant truly being a world created by a genius man of an animator and my knowledge of all the characters in the show up through volume five. That was something for me to take to the grave and make note of so long as I was here.

"Well, seeing that we've covered everything up to now, there's not much for me to ask, Lieutenant," said Stump.

"Oh, we can always ask the good LT here questions, boss," Frost spoke up from behind him. "Hey, LT, what was your MOS?"

I only stared back at the dip user and watched him spit a deposit into his bottle. The grin on his face was similar to a kid watching an endless montage of crotch shots.

"Let me guess, you were a POG, right?" Sonny smirked.

"What does my MOS matter?" I asked back.

"Yeah, he was totally a POG." Frost nodded back at Sonny.

My eyes rolled and a deep breath filled me. No use in arguing back through the heckling. It was something soldiers did all the time and it was usually because they liked messing with officers.

"What's the matter, Dustin? Don't like getting into the thick of it?" Hail added her own taunt.

My eyes opened and I offered her a simple stare. The grin on her face fell a little bit, possibly at me not taking the bait.

"Yeah, I was a POG. I'll admit it," I said as I looked back at all of them.

"Pussy," Frost muttered as he spit out more chew.

"This pussy was the guy who made sure your stupid asses didn't get turned into pink mist when you went in guns blazing, so I'd shut the fuck up if I were you."

Frost comically rose his hands and shook his head with a light chuckle.

I had my reasons for choosing the MOS I did. Dying was a small aspect behind my choice and you may call that cowardly, but it wasn't my main reason. If I got sent to the field to fight at the end of the day, I would do it in a heartbeat. You went where they needed you and you better be willing to do that job to its fullest.

No. The reason I chose to be a POG was because of the horror stories I heard about bad officers who became field commanders and I didn't want to fall into that category. I didn't like the possibility of leading men into a battle and getting them killed under my orders. It was something that scared the crap out of me and I felt that I wouldn't be able to handle it well. Instead I chose the MOS where I could give the guys in the field the information they needed to stay alive against the odds. A stressful job, but one I felt I was good at.

"What exactly was your MOS?" Stump asked.

I spared the others another look. All of them still had smug looks plastered on their faces.

"Intelligence. My job was built around analysis and predicting courses of action to my commander about taking an enemy on and crushing them," I answered back.

The room got oddly quiet. Hail, Frost and Sonny had their brows furrowed in slight confusion as they looked at each other. Stump on the other hand looked intrigued with what he heard.

"You guys never heard about that? You mean to tell me the Atlas Military doesn't have that MOS?" I asked.

Stump only shook his head.

"Kid, our job as soldiers ranged from peacekeeping operations to Grimm extermination. The Great War was the last time anything close to that was used and that was nearly one hundred years ago. It's very outdated," he said.

"Well, that's what I did because that was what my country faced with other military heavy countries," I answered back.

"Were you any good?"

"I only had training. I never got the chance to get deployed, so saying that I'm good would be a lie since I have no proof of it. What I will say is that I knew my job well."

Again, I'm being honest here. Deployment was my goal and since my career was cut short, I never had that opportunity to see if my training would have paid off well. No point in lying about something like that. I knew when to have humility.

Stump nodded and let out a sigh as he got to his feet. The man stretched and made his way to the door. When he opened it, Hail, Sonny and Frost left the room. Stump went back to the table and picked up my stuff and carried it out of the room. He returned a second later and untied me from the chair.

"Get comfy. You're going to be here for a while," said Stump.

"Define a while." I made to follow him.

The air was jettisoned from my lungs after a hard fist sunk into the lowest pit of my gut. I fell on all fours and sputtered for breath as Stump turned around and closed the door behind him.

"As long as it suits my purposes," he answered through the door.

The sharp pain made my teeth clench in anger. What purpose do they have with me? I'm of no use to them, so why not let me go?

My fingers curled into a fist and I managed to push myself up against the wall. Looking around the room I could see a barred off window near the ceiling. There was a bed to my right and to my left there was a small toilet.

I was in prison. Just when I thought I couldn't get any lower today, I did. I go from dying to being revived on a world of one of my favorite web series only to wind up in prison on my first day. No means of escape, and if by some miracle I managed to find a way out, I would probably get killed by the first mercenary to spot me.

My hand swept up my forehead and my fingers wormed their way through my dirty hair. The tip of my finger lightly drummed on my knee and a sigh left me.

"Unbelievable." I got to my feet.

The bed was looking more comfortable than the floor, so I flopped down on it and grimaced at the stiff mattress that met me. Turning over in the bed I looked up towards the window. The starry sky and shattered moon met my eyes. Despite the stunning view I had, it did little to take my mind off everything that happened.

* * *

 _ **(Stump)**_

I stood in front of the monitors that had camera views of each cell in our containment facility. All were empty, save for the one that harbored Dustin Stone. The kid was squirming around on his bed trying to get comfortable. Chances are he wasn't going to sleep well tonight.

My eyes trailed back down to the desk and I looked over the possessions that we confiscated from him. A hat, a wallet with ID, a pistol and a scroll. The only things of value that the kid had at the moment.

He had done well to keep his emotions under wraps, but to be fair, he was hiding behind a front of sarcasm. It was most likely a coping mechanism to deal with the shock and the interrogation, but it was more admirable than crying like a baby. That earned a bit of respect from me.

I pulled out the military ID from his wallet and looked it over. The kid didn't look much older than he did now in his photo, probably twenty-two at the time of it, maybe twenty-one at the earliest. A kid that young in charge of men like him in the military was an impressive feat, but only in the hands of a capable officer. There were a lot of shitty officers, but I played the game and gave them the respect of their rank if I didn't like them. Only a handful of officers had my respect, and one of them was similar to the kid in the cell.

"How did he strike you?" I asked as I set the wallet back on the desk.

My hand disappeared into the fridge beside the desk and pulled out a bottle of beer. The cap was easy to twist off and the ice cold beverage danced on my tongue. It was refreshing after a long day.

"I'd say outside of being a smartass he seems sound, calm and collected," said Hail.

"He gets flustered easily," I mentioned after taking a swig of my beer.

"Can you blame him given the circumstances?"

"No, but people like us need to stay composed. It makes me wonder if he was like that in front of his men."

Hail hummed in agreement and sat on the edge of the desk with her arms crossed. She looked at the monitor before picking up his hat. Her thumbs traced the M on the front of it before she set it back down.

"What are we going to do with him?" She asked.

Another drink from my bottle allowed me to ponder her words. In truth, I planned to use him as a temporary worker around the compound until he I felt he paid off the damage of losing Roman. Now with what he told us in the cell, I felt he could be of more use.

Despite the flak that my team gave him and my words about intelligence being an outdated concept in this day with no wars and Grimm crawling around, it did not escape potential. I've read my fair share of books on the topic and it was a fascinating concept and it was something that was challenging in its own right. Being able to take information about an enemy or force and knowing how to counter them was an impressive skill. The amount of work it took to build something from scratch was something that even I wouldn't be able to do with all the knowledge and tricks I learned while I was still in the Atlas Military.

"I want to see if his skill can benefit us with a job I have planned," I told her.

Hail looked back at me with a raised brow and got off the desk.

"You want to bring a POG and an outsider on board for a job?" She asked.

"I do." I nodded back.

"With all due respect, I think that's a bad idea."

"And if I made decisions based on your personal beliefs, we would be broke."

Hail rolled her eyes at the jab and let out another sigh before shaking her head.

"And what job would this be? I know you well enough that you won't risk a high paying job on a gamble like this," she said.

A smirk came to my lips as I took another drink. She was right. This was more of a personal job on my end. Something that would benefit us and possibly give us a lead on Roman.

"We need more trucks. Crustbusters took some out a week ago on a job Frost had," I told her.

"Of course that idiot would be the one losing equipment," Hail muttered under her breath.

"You're not exactly in a position to talk. Whose jeep did you have to borrow for your last job?"

Hail had the decency to blush in embarrassment at my words. She loved to give her brother grief for screwing up, but when she was put in check with her own game, it was always a treat to watch. A woman with confidence would soon turn into a silent and shy girl.

"Where are we getting the trucks from?" She broke from her silence.

"Black Hand. They have a lot of trucks for their raids on towns around Vacuo. All of them are in mint condition," I told her.

"Why do we need Dustin for that? We're capable of dealing with them without his help."

"Hail, they may not be mercenaries, but they are filled with former huntsmen and soldiers. They're well trained and the last time we dealt with them we lost five men."

She closed her mouth and bit her lip before looking down at the floor. Our last run in with the bandits did give us trouble that should not have happened. We were caught off guard and we paid the price for it. We lost a whole team and we haven't crossed paths with them since. I felt it was high time for payback and put an end to an irritating flea.

To do that, we needed Dustin. He seemed like a bright kid and if his intelligence training was sharp, he might be able to help us do that.

"When do you plan to do this job?" Hail asked.

I finished the rest of my beer and dropped the bottle in the can. Another look at the monitor showed that Dustin managed to fall asleep.

"We'll attack them next week. In the meantime I want to test his resiliency. While I'm doing that, I want Frost and Sonny to do recon on their main compound. You'll pick them up after they complete it," I said.

"Got it," said Hail as she made her way to the door.

The door closed behind me as she left to inform Frost and Sonny of their upcoming job. Once she was gone, I pulled out a book and propped my feet up on my desk. Before turning my attention to the book I gave Dustin one last check. I would give him five days. If he was still composed by the then, I would make him the offer.

* * *

 _ **(Dustin)**_

How long had I been in here now? At least five days, that much was certain.

Five days ago I died in downtown Milwaukee and I was revived on Remnant. In that timeframe of my first day, I met an angel, crossed a desert with no water, and met a mercenary that took me to her group after a dispute between Roman Torchwick and Neopolitan.

I probably sound like I'm beating a dead horse with repeating that, but it's helped me stay cognizant of everything. It was the only way to make sure I hadn't completely lost my mind.

Ever since my interrogation, I had been trapped inside this cell. Nothing to do for hours on end except stare at a wall or out the window at whatever offered some form of entertainment. Back on Earth, this would have been fairly routine for me on the weekend if I had nothing going on. Sitting in my room for hours on end watching TV, playing a video game or writing for one of my many fanfiction stories that will now never see a completion. It never really made me appreciate the love I had for my hobbies until I realized how much it sucked being barred from them.

This was like the ultimate timeout for someone my age. No source of entertainment and nothing to occupy my time. I could feel it slowly chipping away at my sanity. Hell, I didn't even have anyone to talk to. The only person that visited me was Hail, but she only brought me food before leaving me alone for hours until my next meal. It was getting to the point I was about ready to start having conversations with myself to at least resemble another person.

How long did they plan to keep me in here?

That was the one question that plagued my head for the past five days.

I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here, goddamn-it!

I sat upright when I heard footsteps stop outside my door. It was still too early for lunch, so there was no way it was Hail. Maybe it was Frost or Sonny? Could be.

The door unlocked and opened with a creak. To my surprise it was Stump who stood in the doorway. There was a fresh cigarette between his lips and the pack was pinched between his fingers. He walked in and kicked the door shut behind him and sat down in the chair close to my bed. He leaned back in the chair and held up the pack of cigarettes to offer me one.

"I don't smoke." I shook my head.

"Really? You look like you could use one," he said as he pulled out his lighter.

The zippo lighter clicked open and a flame sparked the tip of his cigarette. Tobacco began to burn and it filled the room.

"I've smoked cigarettes before, but I'm not a smoker. Still have the very first pack of Marlboros I bought back in college. Only smoked four of them," I said in return.

Cigarettes were only my go to if I got pissed off beyond belief or if I got super stressed out, so that should give you an idea of how much it took for me to do that.

Stump grunted and put his lighter away as he took a long drag from the cigarette. It was something that I found funny. Even back in my unit I was surrounded by enlisted guys who smoked, but what I never understood was how some of them were able to do so well on the runs during the PT test. Some of them even beat me and that was a bit of a blow to my pride when that happened. You'd expect a smoker to have the worst lung capacity and struggle, but the few that pulled it off made me laugh. It was something that could be seen out of a comedy movie.

"I'm going to ask you some more questions, but it's more of a test than anything to check on your current state of mind," he said.

"Why?" I asked him.

"Because it will give you the opportunity to get out of this cell if you pass."

My head snapped up and I looked him in the eyes. This had better not be a joke. I needed to get the hell out of this thing and if I had to lie about my answers to get out, I would do it. Then again, maybe he'd be expecting me to lie from the get go.

I would stick with telling the truth.

"Fine." I nodded back.

"Good. First off, tell me your name," he replied.

"Dustin Stone."

"Where are you now?"

"The Desert Fox compound somewhere in Vacuo."

"Who am I?"

"Stump."

The questions were becoming more apparent to me. They were simple questions that were similar to what they did to captured individuals when they questioned them for information. They would deprive a person of sleep and see whether or not they would divulge any of the information they were looking for through friendly conversation and bribing them with food or water.

"What was the last thing you told me when we last talked?" Stump asked.

"Are you referring to my question or what I did in the military?" I replied.

"Doesn't matter. I got my assessment on you."

He pulled his cigarette from his mouth and blew out some more smoke.

"Here's the deal. I know we busted your balls about being a POG, but I'm very aware of how much intel played a role in operations during the war. It's an outdated concept, but in the hands of someone smart, it can be a terrifying force to be reckoned with," said Stump.

"Okay, but what exactly does this have to do with you assessing me?" I asked him.

"I wanted to see if your head was straight because I am willing to give you the opportunity to get out of here and start fresh after we got off on the wrong foot."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out two folded up pieces of paper. He held them out to me and I took them. After I unfolded the paper I was welcomed with a map and a drawing of another symbol. The map appeared to be an isolated area of Vacuo and symbol itself was a black hand holding a short dagger.

"What's this?" I asked him.

"Some of the tools you'll need to help us with a job we got coming up. That map shows the territory of a bandit group that has something we want and that symbol is their coat of arms. They're known as the Black Hand," Stump informed me tapping his cigarette free of ash.

"I'm going to need more than this to do my job."

"I figured as much, but you are supposed to be good at digging that up. So here's the deal…"

Stump got up from the chair and made his way to the door. He rested his back against it and propped his boot on it.

"I want you to figure out who these people are. What their capabilities are. Their tactics. The terrain. Everything you need to do to make a product to brief my team on before we go in. When you brief us, we'll execute the mission. When the mission's done, we let you go and we'll give you a cut of the takeaway," he continued.

I bit my lip and looked down at the two items he gave me. It was not much to go on and I would need a lot more than this to make a somewhat passable product. Fresh products were a bitch to make if there was no information to begin with and a perfect one took a month, sometimes longer to make depending on the enemy and environment we were operating in.

This tipped me off to two things. The first was that he knew this group and what they were capable of, but he wanted my input because they had trouble with them at some point before. On top of that, he was more than likely testing me to see if I was full of shit. He and his team would know the majority of this stuff ahead of time.

"It's your choice, Dustin. Stay in here and watch paint dry, or get out and make yourself useful for a chance of freedom," said Stump.

This wasn't exactly a hard decision.

"All right, I'm in. But I'm going to need a room to set up and get this going," I said.

"I can find you the perfect spot."

"When do you want this done by?"

"I'll give you three days starting now."

Figures.

This product would not be perfect, but I would at least be able to come up with the bare minimum information I needed to make this work. Since I would be free to work on it for these next three days, I would have access around the compound. There was a chance I could find information on the CCT network if they had some computers I could use and through the other mercenaries.

I'm going to need a lot of coffee.

* * *

 **That's the chapter, everybody. Let me know what y'all think. Just to make sure you're all tracking, this is currently taking place before we get into canon since I have intentions to change things around with my decisions in terms of some of the main characters before we get to our favorite girls. Follow, favorite, and I'll see you all next time.**


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